
Class __/l^^-^— 

Book. / o ^ 

Copyright N° . 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



t 



V 



c\ 



BOATING TRIPS 



New England Rivers, 



BOATING TRIPS 



ON 



New England Rivers 



HENRY PARKEK FELLOWS 



ILLUSTKATEI) HY WILLIS H. BEALS 



f'lAh IC 1884 



i^>OSTC)X 
CUPPLES, UPHAM, AND COMPANY 

©III Cariur bookstore 
1S.S4 



%' 



F 



COI'YRIGHT, 18S4, 

By Cupi'LES, Upham, & Co. 



PRESS OF 

STANLEY AND USHEK, 

HOSTON. 



To my friend ('. C. POWERS, Es(,)., who will, I iiiiag- 
iuf, take more pleasure rending l)etweeii the lines than 
any (»ne else can [)ossibly take in riiading the narratives 
themselves, 1 inscribe our Inland Voyage and the 'J'rip on 
the Nashua. 

To K. T. S LOCUM, Es(^, who will, 1 am sure, if no 
one else does, read with some dt^gree of interest the lines 
of oui- experiences on the Honsatonic, I dc(licate our 
Autunni Cruise. 



P R E F ACE. 



It is the iuitliors purjiose, in the following })ages, to 
(lescrilie trips lie lias taken in a skiff, Ironi suniniev to 
sunnuer. on one or another of onr home rivers. 

The initial article appeared, in part, oiigiuall\' in the 
Boston Courier, and the Cruise on the Housatouie in 
the Sjtriugfield Kepui)li('an ; while the trip on the Nashua 
is now published for the iirst time. 

H. r. F. 



CONTENTS, 



I. AN INLAND VOYAGE ON THE SUDBURY, CONCORD, 

AND MEKRIMAC RIVERS. 

CHAPTER I. 

Page 

SOUTHVILLE. — CONCOKD 17 

CHAPTER II. 
CONCOUD 8;^ 

CHAPTER III. 

CONCOKD. — NeWBLKYPORT 41 

PkACTICAL SU<iGESTIONS .54 

II. AN AUTUMN CRUISE ON THE HOUSATONIC. 

CHAPTER I. 
PiTTSFiELu. — Lee 01 

CHAPTER II. 
Lee. — Great Rarrington 77 

CHAPTER III. 
Great Barrington. — Kent 94 

CHAPTER IV. 
Kent. — Stratford 112 



xii CONTENTS. 

III. THE NASHUA RIVER. 

CHAPTER I. 

Page 

West Boylston. — T.anc aster 129 

CHAPTER 11. 
Lancastek. — Groton 146 

CHAPTER III. 
Groton. — Nashua 159 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Pajre 

Bridge at Southville is 

Stone'8 Bridge 27 

Sherman's Bkii)(;i-: M 

Ox the Sudblky ;{2 

South Bi:ii)<;i; at < (jncohd '.i'.i 

The Old 3Iaxse .... ;57 

The Waysidi-: 3!) 

The Old North liRiDGE 42 

Bridge at North Billerica 4('> 

Hawthorne's Writing Desk VA 

Pomeroy"s Lower Mill, Pitt.sfikld fic. 

Lenox Furnace 74 

The Housatonic i-i{():\i Fkrn Cliff 7s 

Tanglewood . so 

South Glendale 80 

Old House at Great Bakrington 1)0 

Great Barrixgton 94 

A Crazy BiaiHiE *.>.i 

At Falls Villa<;e lO.} 

West Cornwall Briixje los 

Lover's Leap 117 

West Boylston i;}l 

HoLBROOK's Mii.i 1:53 

Canal at West Boyl.ston l.T) 

Old Bridge at Boylston l.'{7 

Mill at South Lancaster 141 



xiv LIST OF ILL VSTIiA TIOXS. — JLiPS. 

GrOTON 1()4 

Bridge at Peppereli 168 

Main Street Bridge, Nashua 17:^ 

Junction of Nashua and Merrimac 17.") 



MAPS. 

Page 

The Sudbury, Concord, and Nashua Rivers. (Frontispiece). 

The Merrimac i ro.m Lowell to Xewburyport .... TjI 

The Housatonic River G3 

The Housatonic from Monument Mountain to Konkapot 

River 99 

The Nashua from West Boylston to Still River Village 153 



AN INLAND VOYAGE 



ON THE 



Sudbury, Concord, and Merrimac 

RIVERS. 



CHAPTER I. 

SOUTHVILLE. — CONCORD. 

^ I ^HE source of the Sudbury River is, T was about to 
say, among tlie clouds. It appears upon earth, 
however, in the form of two rivulets, one of which flows 
from Whitehall Pond, a beautiful sheet of water in Hop- 
kinton, and the other, beginning from indeterminate places 
in Westborough, joins the Hopkinton branch just above 
Southville. Which is the Sudbury River Ave leave Hop- 
kinton and Westborough to settle between them, although 
perhaps ere this, for aught we know, they may, in order to 
avoid controversy, have divided the honor. After tlie 
junction the river flows in an easterly direction to Ash- 
land, and thence pursues a generally northeasterly course, 
until with the Assabet, in Concord, it forms the Concord 
River. 

It was the desire of the writer and a friend in taking 
a boating trip down the river to obtain a rowboat at the 
pond at Hopkinton ; l)ut it appeared to be difficult to 
procure a suitable craft, and it seemed very doul)tful 
whether the branch from the lake, in its several miles of 
flow to the other branch, was navigable ; so we concluded 
to take a skiff to Southville and start from there. 



18 



BOATINU TRll'S. 



By virtue of an order of Mr. Hobart, station-master of 
the Boston and Albany Railroad, we had our skiff put on 
))oard the bag-gage car (jf the seven a.m. train from 
Boston, upon the payment of one extra fare,- seventy cents. 
We arrived at Southville soon after eight (j'clock, and 
were obliged to wait in the station a couple of hours ou 




account of a severe thunder shower. As the clouds were 
breaking away, we carried our boat on a wheelbarrow to 
a stone bridge, with a single small arch, about two hundred 
feet from the station, and launched her on the right-hand 
side, and, having embarked with the baggage, pulled down 
stream. The riyer was barely wide enough to allow 
free play to the oars. The water was sufficiently deep, 
however, tliougli the river most of the way was filled 



THE SUDBUltY, CONCORD, AND MEBEIMAC. ly 

witli beds of long, limp, gently winding blades of grass. 
Halting at a leaf-embowered l)end midway ])etween South- 
ville and Cordaville, we partook of lunch in a, beautiful 
stretch of sloping woods amid UKJSS-gray bowkhu's, and at 
high noon were again on our way. 

We soon pulled over a pond and came to the mill-dam 
at Cordaville. The bed of the river below the dam was 
dry, so, disembarking, we carried our boat around tlic mill 
on the left-hand side (left, facing down stream), and 
deposited her at the bottom of a deep tail-race, and 
patiently waited for the mill to begin work so that we 
might float away on tlic waste water. Soon we heard the 
machinery in motion and ({uickly the water rose in the 
canal and soon carried us forward under an arched stone 
bridge into the river. We then had rather difhcult work 
in pushing and poling for about a mile until we came to 
the dam at Chattanooga, having unwisely luu'ried t»ii in 
the shallow channel instead of waiting foi- the waste 
water from the milk to raise the stream. We were com- 
pelled to pull the boat over several rocky places, however, 
which are impassable in a boat at all times, except, 
perhaps, when tiu! water is higli, as in the si)ring. As we 
were ])ushing through one; plact; where the stream was 
completely blockaded, with overhanging bushes, Bow 
louiul just beneath his hand a bird's nest in which were 
tliree light blue eggs. 

We hauled u[) near the sluice-way in ivowi of the mill 



20 BOATING TRIPS. 

and carried our boat on a wheelbarrow about three hun 
died feet over a road past the right of the mill, where the 
proprietor, Mr. Aldrich, who had kindly loaned us tlic 
barrow, came out with his boys and wished us good luck 
on our voyage. We pulled under a bridge of the Boston 
and Albany Railroad, which crosses the river just below 
the mill, and had a delightful row in a narrow, deep 
channel with a fine current, until we came to a deserted 
dam. We pulled to shore on the left-hand side aud 
hauled the boat over the framework of the sluice-way to 
the embankment, and thence into the canal below, where, 
in still water under arching trees which cast deep shadows, 
we poled the boat for abtnit a hundred yards until we 
emerged into a pond. Crossing this pond we came to a 
low dam. We pulled the boat over the middle of the dam 
in a few minutes, but then were obliged to get out and 
drag her through several gravelly shallows two or three 
hundred feet to a bridge, and thence had difficult naviga- 
tion a short distance further, until we entered the pond 
at Ashland. 

About six o'clock we came to the dam and stopped on 
the right-hand side thereof, at the head of the sluice-way. 
Below the dam is a series of extensive buildings which 
were intended to be used as print-works, an industry that, 
on account of the injurious effect of the dyes upon the 
stream, unfortunately had to be abandoned, when Boston 
took the Sudbury River as a source of its water supply. 



THE SVDIiUnY, (JONCOJiD, AND MERUIMAC. 21 

Only a portion of the premises is now occupied as a 
tJiread-mill. Below the dam, for nearly a third of a mile, 
the bed of tlie river was so shallow that it was impossible 
to float the boat, so we endeavored to procure a convey- 
ance to carry the boat around by the road. 

While waiting on tlie l)ank a nundjer of Ashland gamins 
crowded arnund and were altogether a saucy lot. We 
could obtain no conveyance of any kind, so, as it was 
growing dark, and we wished to get further down stream 
away from the Ashland gamins, to pitch o\xy tent, we 
carried the boat through the mill-yard, and with friendly 
assistance after a while put lier into the water below the 
first road bridge. The stream was still very shallow, how- 
ever, so we alternately carried along the bank or dragged 
the boat through shallows to a })lace about lialf a mile 
below the dam. When embarketl and once more able to 
row, it was (|uite dark. Pulling on, we several times got 
into wrong channels, and soon found that we were in a 
labyrinth, in which it was as difficult to find an outlet as 
it is to trace one's way througli the puzzling mazes of 
Kosamond's Bower. In the course of a half-liour, how- 
ever, after meeting many obstructions, we ])assed under 
a bridge and continued on along past several houses, 
wlii(di we afterward discovered were in tlie lower part of 
Asldand. As we rowed l)y the last house a little girl 
cried out in the darkness, "• Halloo I who are you?" We 
said, " Boating on the river," and bade her good-night. 



22 BOATIXU TEIl'S. 

She responded, " Good-night," and added, in tender treble, 
the kindly invocation, — 

"May you sleep tiglit, 
Where the Imgs doirt l)ite ! " 

Immediately below, we pnlled under a bridge, but after 
rowing on about halt" a mile we found that Ave were en- 
tangled in a multitude of winding and shallowing bayous, 
with long marshy grass on every side and a causeway in 
front, and merely a glimmering landscape around. We 
were indeed completely baffled, and as it was eleven 
o'clock we })ut back to the bridge, and after vainly trying 
to get directions for our course we concluded to stop at 
one of the houses. The young man who acted as our 
cicerone talked the true middle-of-England dialect, as 
it appears in Griffith Gaunt and Nicholas Nickleby. His 
peculiar pronunciation of " meestur "' was very pleasing, 
and especially pleasant the tones of his voice as he rapped 
up Mr. Pratt, who, in most hospitable fashion, as we had 
been assured would be the case, took us in and rid us of 
the chief difficulty of our situation until the morrow. 

Upon crossing the bridge early in the morning to em- 
bark again, we readily discovered the cause of our 
erroneous wandering the night before. The course of 
the river was very similar to the shape of the letter V. 
As we proceeded along we had come to the bridge at the 
apex of the V, as it were, and of course, naturally enough. 



riiE svDBUiiY, coy con I). am> mihuumac. 23 

in tlie darkness, immediately rowed under it. The river, 
however, instead of flowing under the bridge, turns sharply 
to the northeast, and we should have rowed u[) the othei' 
side of the V, as it were. 

In a few minutes we were rowing in front of the bridge, 
and soon left it in the rear. In about a third of a m\\v a 
low dam compelled us to make a very short carry on the 
left side, and we then entered the first of the city reservoirs. 
We havded over a low dam at the end of the first pond on 
the left, a very easy obstacle to pass, and after a pull over 
another pond with the Boston and Albany Railroad on our 
right, w^e came to a low causeway, over which we hauled 
the boat, and then pulled through a long stretch of water 
to a very high dam, guarded on the right by a small but 
very artistic gate-house, wherein are tlie gates for regu- 
lating the supply of water, and several hydrometers. The 
row in the deep water basin under tlie hot sun had been 
pretty warm, so we lingered in the shade of the gate-house 
t)n the dam before undertaking the fresh task of getting 
the boat over. It was hard work to pull the boat to the 
top of the embankment ou the right of the dam (which is 
about twenty-five feet high), over the heavy masonry, at an 
angle of about forty-five degrees. The descent, ho\\'ever, 
on the lower side, was com[)aratively easy, and we were 
soon pulling across the last reservoir to dam number one. 

Bow was quite surprised to ascertain that ninnber one 
was the last dam, there having \)vv\\ mueli talk about dam 



24 BOATINU TRIPS. 

number one, dam number two, and dam number three; 
he naturally supposing that number one was the first, 
instead of the last, of the series. We found the water of 
the last pond filled with innumerable fine particles of the 
vegetable matter which has been the occasion of so much 
disturbance to the citizens of Boston and their water- 
board, from time to time, for the past several years. The 
phenomenon appearing in only one pond, and there de- 
veloped to such an extent, is certainly very remarkable. 
Experts have declared, however, that the matter does not 
impair the purity of the water, though we did not care 
to drink it. 

Dam number one we found almost as difficult to get by 
as dam number two. We carried over on the right and 
lowered the boat over quite a high stone wall below the 
gate-house into the river. Only one hundred and forty 
thousand gallons of water are let through the dam each 
day to supply the mill at Saxonville, and consequently the 
river-bed was quite shallow. Stroke ke})t in the boat, 
and after poling by a number of rocks in a few minutes 
reached comparatively clear water. The going continued 
to improve, and ere long we came to the camp-meeting 
ground at South Framingham. Rowing on through a long, 
narrow pond we came to a short, low dam. We let the 
boat float over with the fall of water under a house at the 
middle of the dam, and below had to get out at brief 
intervals and pull over several gravelly shallows. The 



THE SUDBURY, C0\C02iI), AND MERE IM AC. 25 

going soon became good, except at rare intervals where 
a shallow compelled us to push along or get out of the 
l)oat and haul through. The water was clear, however, 
and the banks lined with trees, and, except when we came 
to an arched stone bridge and saw some men mowing, our 
course for about two miles was along a narrow, winding 
stream, exceedingly pleasant. We passed a number of 
piles of stones heaped up in the form of round bee-hives; 
and on one a water-snake (I think he must have been 
asleep), threatened with an oar, maintained his position 
until thrust off. After a while the river wound in more 
open country and then again amid a hilly country with 
thick woods on every side. It was noon and the sun was 
shining hot. Not a breath of air was stirring, but we 
kept on, wishing to get below Saxonville at as early an 
hour as we could and go into camp. 

Emerging from the woody banks, wc crossed a pond 
and came to a deserted dam, vvliich is about two miles 
above Saxonville. The dam is broken on the right side 
with the water at the same level below as above, and we 
found that we had just room enough U) pass between two 
iron axles, each surmounted by a liuge iron cog-wheel, 
high in air, that formerly composed part of the machinery 
of a grist and lumber mill. We pulled over the buoyed 
race-course on the upper part of the Saxonville pond, 
and at the ice-house a iiuge cake of ice was thrown into 
the pond for our benefit, where it looked very odd floating 



26 BOATING TBIPS. 

about ill midsiimnier. Wt^ soon came in sight of the mill 
and houses at Saxonville, and about two o'clock hauled 
ashore on the left-hand side of the dam and had our boat 
transported through the town by the Adams Express, and 
put into the water near a livery-stable by the railrf)ad- 
station. 

Saxonville is a very fine specimen of the New-England 
manufacturing village. It is grouped in very pictures(]uc 
fashion around the end of the pond, and looks extremely 
neat and thrifty. There is a boat-house on the pond and 
many boats. A road has been cut through the woods on 
the north side of the pond. Thiij improvement, as well as 
many others, is due to the public spirit of Mr. Simpson, 
who, from the constant rumor of his name, is evidently 
the presiding genius of the town. 

We found the stream below Saxonville shallow and 
filled with many rocks. The water was clogged with all 
sorts of im})urities from the woolen-mill, and so muddy 
that we could only guess at obstructions. A violent gust 
of wind, preceding an impending shower, which luckily 
for us, however, did not fall, drove us down stream at first 
at a rapid rate. For about a mile we were seldom able to 
row, and although compelled most of the time to push 
along with the oars, and often meeting apparently impass- 
able obstructions, very fortunately were not once obliged, 
as we often feared we should be, to get out of the boat. 
The stream itself was disgusting, though lined much of 



THE Sl'DBVnV. COXCOliD, AM> MEIUilMAC. 



27 



the way on tht' liglit by <i very pretty, wooded bank. The 
oars in poling sank througli thiek, yeHow water deep into 
oozy beds of yiekling, slippery slime, and the odor stirred 
up by the action was fonl and niiasniatie. Indeed, neither 
Styx nor Phlegethon, \ suspect, is half so bad. 

After an lionr or more of progress in this wretched 
fashion the water grew deeper, while the l)anks were often 










"5ron€SSrio<^g ^ 



quite abrupt and well wooded. A prostrate tree now and 
then threatened to entangle us in its branches. We won- 
dered liow we sliould l)e able to get by one, until we found 
a natural arch in a hnge branch that lay upon the water, 
through which, when the way seemed most beset with 
pei-plexities, we passed in triumph. The river rah into 
many curving recesses where the water looked heavy and 
somnolent, and we were glad indeed, after a while, upon 
passing through an open meadow, to arrive at St(»ne's 



28 BOATING TRIPS. 

Bridge. The bridge is only a mile from the village, but 
the river in its tortuous course makes a circuit of more 
than three miles thither. At one place the neck between 
the banks is only a few rods across, and if one could only 
discover the spot from the river a short carry would save 
a row of nearly a mile. 

A low hill to the right of Stone's Bridge commands 
a hue prospect. The view of the river winding along to 
the north through the broad, level Wayland meadows 
IS especially beautiful. 

The river Ijelow the bridge is comparatively free from 
impurity. A cluster of thick grass occasionally blocked 
xip the river from bank to bank, and hindered the free 
motion of the boat, without, however, materially delaying 
our progress. On the left are several hillsides, covered 
with trees, with curving meadows between. We spread 
our tent on an old road which ran along the side of one 
of the hills, under the trees, and stretching ourselves out 
upon the ground, we watched the moving leaves shadowed 
in silhouette by the glow of the dying fire against the 
canvas, and amid the mournful croaking of an army of 
frogs in the river below, and the strange, unearthly souiuls 
of the woods around, we fell into slumber deep and 
unbroken until nine o'clock on the morrow. 

Soon after starting Monday morning, we came to a place 
where the river was completely blockaded by dense masses 
of grass and rushes and lily-pads. Rowing was very slow 



THE SUDBUIiY, COXCOlil). AND MErilllMAC. 29 

and tedious for about a quarter ot" a mile. By and by, 
however, the channel grew clearer, and then the river, 
entirely free from impurity, began to wind in serpentine 
mazes through level meadows. The shores were lined 
with grass sedges and bordered with lilies, white and 
fragrant, while on every broad, leafy pad sat a frog. 
Here was, I think, the paradise of Batrachians. They sat 
in silence and stared at us with solemn gaze as we floated 
by. Even a thrust of the oar did not suffice to disturb 
the judicial serenity of some old croaker, who merely 
winked as the oar approached, or reluctantly abandoned 
his position as he was swept off at the end of a stroke. 
But the pond-lilies were indeed most wondrous, especially 
as we came to the head of Long Pond, just above Way- 
land. Upon either shore the spotless white array, immac- 
ulate in purity, sti etched along as far as one could see, 
and the air was filled with their delicious fragrance. As 
we neared the end of the pond, the view of the hills 
encircling the valley at a distance was very fine. Beyond 
the broad meadows the slopes looked extremely rich and 
luxuriant. 

We halted at the Wayland bridge for a short time, and 
then rowed past a bank lined with enormous cat-o'-nine- 
tails that would have delighted lovers of modern art in 
nature, and then under the bridge of the Massachusetts 
Central Railroad to the Sudbury-Wayland bridge. Be- 
low this bridge the river wound in continuous crooked 



30 BOATINU TEirs. 

fdlds through ;i wide expanse (it" uuirshes. Tlie channel 
was marked on either side by lines of grass, and below 
was often filled with waving weeds. Occasionally the 
stream was completely clogged with grass, so that it was 
hai-d work to pull through, and at intervals the stream 
flowed through a small pond-like stretch of water. Alto- 
gether the scene was quite tropical, the luxuriant vegeta- 
tion of the wide marsh contrasting strangely in the quiet 
noonday with the varied iq)land scenery on every side. 

As we drew near the end of the meadows. Bow espied 
at the beginning of a. little pond into which the river 
opened a huge black t)bject, which we almost immediately 
discovered to be the head of a monstrous water-snake. 
He (quickly saw us too, and as we ceased rowing he began 
to move. We were for a moment in grave ap})]'ehension 
as to Ins intentions, and were greatly relieved to see him 
direct his course toward the reeds at the margin of the 
water. He turned around and looked at us durine' his 
slow retreat, renewing our ap[)rehension each time, but 
continued on, one immense fold following another, until 
he disappeared in the marsh. He must have been seven 
or eight feet long,, and tapered sharply at the tail. We 
heard him for several minutes, s})lashing through the 
reeds, and saw the reeds, disturbed by his sinuous wind- 
ing, moving some distance away from the channel before 
we ventured to proceed. 

We soon came to another bridge, and about half a mile 



Till-: SUDBUllY. (JOXCOni). AND MEUIUMAC. 



31 



below drew to shore and passed llie at'teriiooii l)eiieatli tlie 
refreshing shade of some trees. Then hite in the day we 
rowed on by some very pretty wooded liillsides, and in 
the course of an liour came to Sherman's Bridge, at Nortli 
Sudbury. Upon tlie left of the river the country slojies 




-B»~i,i. 






up to the town in broad and fertile tracts, and to the 
left of the bridge and just Ix^yond rises a Jiill gracefully 
])icturesque. On the right, the slo[)ing banks were orna- 
mented with clumps of trees, while the bridge itself 
accented a river scene ricli in beauty. 

About half a mile ))elow the l)ridge we j)ut ashore at 
a ]ioint which juts into the river on tlu; light, and found 



32 



BOATIXG TRIPS. 



admirable camping ground in an open forest alongside 
a grassy road that led up from the river. While eating 
supper in dusky shadows by the waning fire, drops of rain 
began to rattle on the dry leaves around. Retiring to the 
tent we soon heard the roar of the storm above. .\t 
frequent intervals the tree-tops, shaken by the wind, sent 
down a shower of large drops that battered musically upon 
the canvas. The rain poured in torrents all night and the 
greater part of the following morning. 




CHAPTER U. 

(JONCOIJI). 

/^UR camping place was within tlic borders of Concord. 
^"^^ Walden Pond was accessible, and not far distant; 
but we did not care t(» nndertake a tramp there in the 
wet. We got under way again on the river aljout the 
middle of the afternoon. A feAv strokes carried ns to 




Fair Haven Bay, where hills rise on every side, shutting 
in the [)rosi)ect with walls of living green. The river is 
here, indeed, wild and })ictures(|ue, and was a favorite 
resort of Thoreau. After a long, hard pidl against a 
strong head wind, we came to tlie old South Bridge at 
Concord. The river, here and below, was sluggish, and 
as we continued on Ave caught a glimpse, iu the (piiet 
evening, of that tran(|uillity for whidi the town itself is 



34 BOATIXG TBIPS. 

noted, which it undoubtedly derives from the river. 
The water w^as like glass ; the freighted clouds hung in 
solemn masses in the west, and the sunlight poured 
in golden floods over earth and sky. Pulling under the 
stone bridge, we came to the Grand Canal of Concord, 
and met several rowboats flying along the watery way, and 
among others a dark-blue ya^d with a crew of two voung 
ladies, who pulled a gentlemanly coxswain Avitli a graceful 
yet effective stroke, that was, I suspect, the product of 
tnuch patient coaching. 

The village is situated on the east side of the river. 
The shore at the rear of the gardens of the houses on the 
bank was lined with every kind of rowing craft. The 
river is indeed the greatest part of Concord. Just beknv 
the bridge of the Lowell Railroad, the Assabet joins the 
Sudbury, the two streams forming the Concord River. 
At the junction is a little promontory, called Egg Rock, 
where we landed, as the shadows of evening began to 
gather. We pitched the tent near the top of the eleva- 
tion, and after a hastily improvised supper stretched 
ourselves out u})on the hard ground for slumber. A nnii- 
titude of frogs in the Assabet, however, made night hoarse 
with their croaking ; and we were aroused soon after 
dawm by the clamorous cawing of a flock of crows, and 
began the day at an early hour, little refreshed. 

Egg Rock is covered with turf and mould, except here 
and there Avhere the rock jtrotrudes, or a ledge crops out, 



THE SUDBUIiW COXCOJW. AXD MEHniMAC. 35 

and an open growth of trees. It is a favorite resort for 
picnics, and hardly a day goes by in summer Avithout one 
or more parties making it a scene of briglit festivity. We 
were, however, entirely undisturbed during our stay, 
except by the report of a gun and the rattle of a scat- 
tering charge of sh(,»t among the trees somewhat near our 
heads, a circumstance that was inmiediately followed by 
a brief, but somewhat animated, conversation betAveen us 
and the sportsman : and, upon anotlier occasion, when, 
on our return from the village, we found a very itretty 
little girl in the hammock, which, however, was not very 
much of a disturbance ; at least, to «s. Frequently, liow- 
ever, during tlie day we heard the sound of dipping oars, 
and Cciught sight of a l)oat gliding up the Assabet or 
returning to the village. 

Egg Rock is indeed an idyllic spot. The view is a 
charming pastoral. The Concord, formed l)v the union 
of the Sudbury and Assal)et, flows away from tlie end of 
the rock with rippling current until it shortly disappears 
beneath a bridge in a causeway. Here and there is 
a house, and, among others, the Barrett Mansion, which 
occupies the site of the house the ancestors of the })resent 
family lived in at the time of the Concord Fight. The 
Minute-man and monument are a little distance farther 
down, and beyond is fold upon fold of green hills and 
woods. Upon one side, l)eyond the embankment of tlie 
Lowell Railroad, is a blended mass of foliage and houses, 



36 BOATIN(i TRIPS. 

which comprise a portion of the vilhige, and on the other 
the wild and lovely Assabet. 

Hawthorne says : '' A more lovely stream than the Assa- 
bet for a mile above its junction with the Concord has 
never flowed on earth — nowhere, indeed, except to lave 
the interior regions of a poet's imagination. ... It comes 
flowing softly through the midmost privacy and deepest 
heart of a wood which whispers it to be (luiet ; while the 
stream whispers back again from its sedgy borders, as if 
river and wood were hushing one another to sleep. Yes ; 
the river sleeps along its ct)urse and dreams of the sky 
and the clustering foliage." 

On Wednesday afternoon we rowed up the Assabet. 
We saw innumerable frogs and a congregation of seven 
turtles on a board, the very same party, I have no doubt, 
that Mrs. Goddard, in a sketch of Concord, says she saw 
while rowing up the Assabet. With heads craned high 
and motionless in air, like so many pious Moslems, they 
awaited our approach, and when we were quite near they 
tundiled into the water one after another, and rapidly 
kicking hind-legs could be seen vigorously iiropelling each 
clumsy creature to the depths below. 

On the evening of every Fourth of July a carnival ot 
boats is held on the rivers. One wing of the fleet forms 
beneath the leafy arches of the Assabet, where the great 
hemlocks reach over to see their reflections in the black 
water, and the other on the open Sudbury, and at a given 



THE suDurnw coxconi), axd .vKjmrMAC. 



37 



signal the procession, gay with illnininations, moves (h)wn 
the Concord amid a glare of fireworks under the old North 
Bridge brilliantly adorned with lanterns. 

After wandering away from the haunts of men on 











la/vse 



lonely rivers in the midst of nature, where all is appar- 
ently plain and simple, Ave determined to visit the School 
of Philosoph}- and listen to the perplexing problems man 
proposes and discusses. The cosy little building in which 
the school holds its sessions is new. with interior unfin- 



38 BOATINii TRIPS. 

ished and rough, and (tf itself would surely not awaken 
any suspicion of distraction, nor, indeed, did the enter- 
taining lecture we heard Mrs. Cheney deliver about early 
American art. It is, somehow, the fashion to deride the 
School of Philosophy. Is not learning, however, rather 
to be congratulated upon tlie establishment of a school, 
disjointed it may be, and somewliat fragmentary, where 
the mystical problems of the mind can be discussed? 
The problems exist, and though of no immediate practical 
inportance, and perhaps forever insoluble, yet they 
cannot be dismissed ont of sight. Tlie (piestion of pre- 
existence and the primal principles of philosophy and 
what-not else can surely find no more litting place for 
consideration than the Hillside Chapel ; where, in an 
atmosphere of drowsy nature, amiable culture, mature in 
experience, calmly discusses with frank courtesy the 
Unthinkable and the Unknown, — the self-same i)roblems 
that Macaulay declares were discussed and left unsolved 
by Ionian philosophers three thousand years ago. May 
the Concord School have better luck I 

Tlie conversation that follows each lecture is, however, 
tlie real charm of the school, and has given the philosophic 
enterprise its chief reputation. 

The view from Lee's Hill, an inconsiderable elevation 
that rises behind Egg Rock, is (|uite extensive, varied, 
and beautiful. Toward the northwest appears the mag- 
nificent extent of the State Prison, like a huge palace — 



THE SUDJWnY, COXCOJW, AXB MEIUilMAC. 



39 



a i)alaee of misery. The town is l)elo\v on tlie right, 
hemmed by the shining river, which can be seen for some 
miles sweeping toward the northeast through rich green 
hills. 




There are many points of interest in and about Con- 
cord. The tavern wherein Major Pitcairn stirred his 
famous glass of toddy with a bloody finger, exclaiming, 
" I will stir the Yankee blood in tlie same way before night," 
is still standing, in nearly the same (condition as wlicn the 
Major uttere<l liis ])lo()(ly threat ; and along the road to 



40 iioA'/'iMi riiirs. 

IjexiiigtoM, and in and around tlic villag-c, arc many 
lionscs which were standing' at tiie time ol' the I>ritish 
'•'()ccu|)ati()n,"" Then, in a(hliti(>n t(» Ihe Ohl Manse, there 
is the Wa\'si(h', where llawthoi'ne resided at the time of 
his (h'ath. the residence (»!' llie lion. E. 11. Hoar, and the 
homes ol' l<^merson, Ah'ott, and Sanhorn. For a more 
])arlicHiar ih'scription of these, however, and the lihrary, 
whicli is (juite hirge and valnabh', and the cemeteries and 
other i)laees and matters of interest, I wouhl refer any 
one desii'ons of t'uitlicr informalion to Bartlett's Concord 
(inide-book, whieli is a very interesting, as well as useful, 
contribution to the iiteratun; of the town. The view of 
the Ohl Manse given herein is from the rear, or river, 
side. 



CHAPTER III. 

CONCOItl). — NKWIUTRYPORT. 

"TTT^E l)r(»l\'(' cainii on Egg' Kiu-k Tliursday lunruing, 
and ahoul Icn o'clock' icnewecl our voyage. 
Alter passing the stone l)ri(lge which s[)ans the ('oiicord 
just IjcIow the junction (»f the rivers, we wei'c canglit in 
a shower that liad l)een impending, and on ac(;ount of 
wliich \\'(; liad dehiyed our (h'partui'e. A ])rier ])ull, liow- 
ever, brouglit us to the ohl Nortli Bridge, wlieic we made 
fust, and for several liouis found siielter upon the liistorie 
structure. The biidge itself is so ohl-fashioned, yet 
artistic, and the approacli on the Concord si(h' tlnctugh 
the avenue of hemlocks so l)(!autifiil, that the spot Axonhl 
be attractive;, even apart from tlie inctnunuMils and his- 
torical associations that cluster about it. 'J1ie Minute-man 
on the left bank, the monument on tiie rigid, and the 
<]uaint bridge, contrast strangely with the rural scenes 
around; while the Old Mans(! near In, on one side, and 
(degant houses on the other, complete the bewilderment, 
I might almost say enchantment, of the place. Thcji- is, 
too, a touch of j)athos in the inscrijdion, " (Ji-aves of 
British Soldiers," on a granite ledge set in the stone wall 
between the hemlocks near the bridge. Two lude stones, 
peering just above the ground witiun a scant <'nclosure, 



42 



noATixa rniPS. 



wliicli uiark their rt'stiiig-placf, trll a tlumb stoi}^ of pain 
and woe long past. How easy to call up the scene of 
conliiet ! On the south bank the company of red-coated 
soldiers idling on guard; upon the other the Provincials 
coming down tlie road, and then both sides forming for 
what might ])e a collision, the British stolid and disposed 
to sneer at their foemen, the Americans anxious, and 











?e 



eager, and nervous, it may be, still bravely approaching 
the crisis. Tlien came a stray bullet from tlie Britons, 
followed by a v(dley tliat killed Davis and Hosmer, and 
then the fire of the Americans, after which an indiscrim- 
inate loading and tiring until the British retired to the 
town, leaving the two dead, who were buried where the}" 
fell. 

It was one o'clock wlien we ventured to embark again, 
between the stray drops of rain. In a few minutes we 



THE SUDBURY, CONCORD, AND MERRIMAC. 4o 

passed under the third and hist stone l)ridge at Concord, 
and soon lost sight of the Minute-man, and in a brief 
while were again on an aboriginal river. Either the old 
truism about the inappreciable descent of the Concord 
River is untrue, or the rains liad unduly swollen tlie 
volume of water; for tlie current was, for tlie most i)art, 
quite rapid, and with the lielp of the oars we swiftly 
passed along close to one bank or the other, around many 
a pretty winding tiu-n. I am inclined to think, however, 
that the current story about a bridge that was blown from 
its abutments and floated up river, in reality belongs to 
the Sudbury, which is, in truth, the slowest and laziest 
river under the sun, and near Concord is often called the 
Concord. 

After a row (jf nearly tln-ee hours, which included 
a long halt luider some trees to escape a shower, as we 
were pulling along a wide marsh around a sharp bend 
just within the bordei-line of the town of Bedford, we 
es[)ied, at the head of a long reach on tlie left bank, at the 
edge of a piece of woods at the foot of a hill, a deserted 
shanty. The rain — Jupiter Pluvius ajjpcarcd to be in 
ascendency all the week — was pouring down (piite hard, 
so we nuide fast by the shanty, and songht shelter in it. 
After a while, the rain ceased, and we rowed up river half 
a mile or more, and after much difficulty in effecting a 
landing on the marshy sliore, renewed our supply of pro- 
visions at a farm-liouse, and returned, besides, with a boat- 



44 BOATING rnips. 

load of dry hay, whicli contained a great deal of s^yeet- 
fern, and made an aromatic conch, fnll of slumber. Bow 
here proved an accomplished cook by making an excellent 
custard, in a very few minutes. He gave solemn assurance 
that the result was not an accident. We found the name 
Bull cut in one of the boards of the shanty, and we after- 
wards ascertained that a man named Bull, from Concord, 
had lived in the shanty an entire winter, after the manner 
of Tlioreau at Walden Pond. Whatever the comfort of 
a structure entirely of l)oards, about ten by eight, and 
just high enough to stand in, with one small window, and 
a door, and a hole for a stovepii)e, and a sand floor, in 
winter, we found it very comfortable during our stay, save 
when a sudden shower in the morning let in an unneeded 
quantity of water through the leaky roof. Whether Mr, 
Bull succeeded in reducing his expenses to eight dollars 
and seventy-six cents for a year, a feat achieved by 
Thoreau at Walden Pond, I know not ; but our thanks, at 
least, are certainly due him for the use of his building. 

We pulled down river Friday afternoon. The reach 
below the shanty is one of the longest, if not the longest, 
on the river. Rough woods lined the shore on the left 
side beyond marshy meadows, while at intervals farm- 
houses and cultivated fields appeared on the right. After 
a while the houses and spires of Billerica loomed up on the 
right bank. Rowing by the abutments of a lost bridge, 
we made fast just above, the middle Inidge, the road from 



THE SUDBURY, GONCOllD. AND MERBIMAC. 45 

wliicli k'iids (lirei't to the village. Billerica is a very liaiid- 
soine specimen t)l" the more modern New-England village. 
The view down the valley toward Lowell from the head 
of the street that leads to the river is exceedingly tine. 

After rambling through the village, we returned to the 
river and pitched our tent inuler a huge oak at the 
edge of a grove just al)0ve the bridge, hurrying the work 
to escape a shower impending from the north. The stars 
were shining brightly all over the sky, except where a 
castled cloud projected itself slowly upAvard, shot through 
with constant, vivid Hashes of lightning and accompanied 
by a loud rumbling of thunder. For \u\ hour or more the 
shadow of the cloud hung above us, and then edged away 
to the north, a rainless portent. 

The next morning we were early on our way. On the 
left and lower side of a bridge we pulled uixhn-, in the 
course of the morning row, — I think it was here, although 
it may have been below the Carlisle-Bedford bridge, — is 
an old weather-stained house, with barn and outbuildings 
to match, which rivals in (quaint, anti(][ue grace the Old 
Manse at Concord. 

Above and below the bridge were innumera])le lilies, 
which bloomed almost continually along the liver, only 
in some places in almost tropical profusion. As we were 
pulling along at the edge of the lily-pads. Stroke plucked 
a liandsome bud, whit;h in a moment l)roke into lull bloom 
in his hand. The current below the bridgt^ runs (piito 



46 



BOATIXU TL'IPS. 



swiftly at times over several slight descents. By and l\y 
we passed a number of rocks strewn about the channel, 
and entered the pond above the dam at North Billerica. 







'^'^^^mr^^ 



■ Nca 



The oarsman off duty while trolling across the pond 
succeeded in catching a rock that weighed several tons, 
and tAvo small pickerel. The dam of the Talbot Mills is 
easily passed by keeping in the sluiee-way on the right to 



THE svDin'in\ coxconiK axd :\iki!uimac. 47 

the road. Then, utter a short carry across the road into 
the mill-yard, you can let your boat over a stone embank- 
ment into the river. 

We hauled to shore on a perfect sand beach on tlie right, 
about two miles below North Billerica, and in the woods 
beyond found a lively brook of reinarkal.ly cold water. 
At three we started for Lowell and at the edge of the city, 
after passing under three or four bridges, found our way 
obstructed by a dam. The ri^■er-bed beloAA' the dam was 
completely dry. A canal leads off to the left. Following 
the canal at first and then turning to the end of the dam, 
we made a portage over the embankment and put the 
boat into the canal below the gate. We then had good 
sailing for about a third of a mile, although we were 
occasionally obliged to lie down in the boat to escape 
hitting some of the bridges which crossed the canal. We 
took the boat out at the end of the canal and made 
a portage of about three hundred feet through the yard of 
a mill on the right, and, launching the boat down a steep 
bank, we were soon pulling across another pond, and 
(^uickl}^ came to another dam. The second dam can quite 
easily be passed to the right, though we found no diffi- 
culty, on account of the low water, in getting over the 
middle of it, and we were soon pulling over another pond, 
to our great discouragement. We were now in the city 
and houses lined the hills on both sides of the pond. At 
the end of the pond on tlie lei't was a huge brick mill, and 



48 BOATIXa TRIPS. 

over a liigU dam we could see the water curling and hear 
it plunging below. A carry is feasible around a low 
building to the right of the dam. We approached the 
dam itself, however, at a corner of the building, and found 
just space enough, where the water was only trickling 
over the liash-boards, to pull the boat up and slide her 
(jver tlie dam, and am'id the thundering roar of the water, 
which loudly resounds when one is near below it, we 
launched her below the fall. Then, after a few strokes, 
we entered a sort of canal, and shooting across a deep 
revolving whirl])Ool, f(_irmed by the inrushing waste water 
from the Merrimac canal, we were Ijorne on the surging 
current under Merrimac-street bridge into the Merrimac. 

We had been two hours in getting by the tln-ee dams. 
No good landing-place appeared near, however, so Stroke 
turned the boat about and put her, stern foremost, through 
Hunt's Falls, on the Lowell side. The waves leaped 
menacingly above the stern, and the spray Hew around in 
little showers for a moment or two ; but the swift motion 
was a very agreeable sensation after the slow work over 
dams and ponds. The row of brick mills which extends 
alons: the south sliore of the Merrimac until the view is 
intercepted by a bend, presents a massive and imposing 
frontage on tlie river. We drew to shore at the foot of 
the rapid, and spent the night in the City of Spindles. 

On the morrow we found that the channel over which 
we had swiftly floated the night before was completely 



THE SUDBUItY, CONCORD, AND MEIiltlMAC. 49 

dry. The river liad, indeed, on account of tlie sliutting 
off of the water, almost entirely disappeared. We passed 
through a very narrow channel at first, and then keeping 
to the left of an island just below, dropped down the 
river a few miles, and in the evening encamped on the 
left hank, about a nnle above Lawrence. 

Lawrence is nine miles below Lowell, and the river the 
entire distance is wide, and the banks woody and pictur- 
esque. A large island lies nearer the left shore, about half 
way between the two places, and innnediately below, on 
the left, are some handsome stretches of open country, 
marked here and there by farm-houses and, farther down, 
iinely wooded hills. The river, (|uite deep, with little 
current, is a favorite cruising ground h)r many small 
3-aclits, which add life to the water. The Merrimac is 
indeed a famous river for boating. As we sat under our 
tent, in the mooidit evening, we saw many boats go by, 
and the music of sacred songs was wafted across tl 



le 



water from far and ni'ar. 

At (hiybreak on Monday morning we climbed to the 
to[) of the hill which rose from the river Avhere we 
were encamped, and had a magnilicent view of the sun- 
rise. Below was Lawrence, still and sleeping, — I had 
almost said lazy, — to the south were Andover and West 
.Vndover on a ridge of hills, while the course of the river 
could be traced westward by the mists which rolled above 
it. It is a tint' location for a farm, and tiu; milk we 



50 BOATING TlilPS. 

obtained at the house which crowns the summit of the 
hill was quite as good as the view. After a breakfast of 
the tenderest of sirloin, and the sweetest roasted potatoes, 
and the most delicious coffee, — I speak wholly Avith 
reference to the taste, and not at all to the actual quality 
of the articles, — we rowed along shore and soon came to 
the head of the broad canal on the left of the river, whicli 
supplies the motive power to the mills of Lawrence. 

The water glides swiftly into the canal, and rushes 
fnriously under the bridge. Boats have been swept under, 
and care must be exercised in approaching it. The lock- 
man opened the gate at one side of the bridge in a few 
minutes, and we pulled into the canal below, where the 
water pours along full of little Avhirlpools, but entirely 
safe. The current is very swift at first, and carried us 
along very rapidly past the mills on one side, where the 
machinery made incessant roar, and the long lines of brick 
houses on the other. We had to lie down in the bottoui 
of the boat to pass some of the bridges. After a very 
novel and agreeable voyage of about half a mile, perhaps, 
we came to the end of the canal, where we were let down 
tliirty-two feet through three locks, in al)out twenty 
minutes, into the river beloAv. The sensation, as you sit 
in the boat in a lock and feel the water sinking beneath 
you, induces a slight sense of horror, to say the least. 
There is no charge for locking. 

The current is very swift bel(»w Lawrence, but the 



THE SUDBUBY, COXCOIiD, AND MEIiniMAC. 



51 



banks are not nearly so prett}- as above. About four 
miles below Lawrence is an island, and inmiediately below 
the island is a short stretch of rapids. The Ijest channel, 
marked by buoys, is used by small steamers ; but I should 
think they would haye a hard time in getting through. 







We turned the boat about and went through stern 
foremost, enjoying that most delightful of sensations, the 
motion of rushing water. The riyer makes a sharp bend 
below the fall, and along the lower side of the bend is 
another rapid. The swift water carried us along near the 
shore past the steamer Kittie Boynton, moored alongside 
the bank. Below the rapid, the current continues (putc 
strong in the middle f>f the riyer, between lines of I)uovs, 
nearly to the end of the reach, where, after rounding 
a bend, we saw the city of Hayerhill. We pulled up at 
a wharf under the passenger bridge at eleyen o'clock, 
having made the nine miles from Lawrence in two hours 



52 BOATINd TBIPS. 

and a half. Here, to our surprise, we were informed that 
the tide was just beginning to go out ; so, after only a few 
minutes' delay, we went along with it. 

Pulling by Groveland, about two miles below Haverhill, 
we kept on for about a mile, when we pulled up on the 
beach and had the last of the dinners of the trip, which 
somehow, in spite of the crude cooker3% were always 
literally devoured with a relish. Then kee})ing on down 
river, with wind and tide and current in our favor, we 
soon came in sight of West Newbury, and for a time 
wondered what was the course of the river, as the hills 
seemed to enclose it on every side. The river turned 
northward, however, and soon we were pulling through 
an interminable reach, wliere a strong head wind made 
very toilsome the incessant eftbrts of the weary oarsmen, 
and was, I fear, the occasion of some pious ejaculations. 
Then Merrimacport appeared on the right bank. Several 
unpainted, weather-stained, old-fashioned houses give the 
village a quaint and pleasing aspect. 

After pulling through two or three (juite long reaches, 
Amesbury appeared before us, and rounding a long cape 
of sand heaps that projected from the right bank just 
below Laurel Hill, formerly the summer residence of the 
English Minister Thornton, a slight elevation, which, 
nevertheless, commands one of the loveliest views in New 
England, we met the incoming tide and another head 
wind. l*ulling diagonally down river past the rocky north 



THE SUDBUIiY, COXCOllD. AM) MERRIMAC. 5,:i 

shore, by a very liandsoine edifice of biiek and stone, we 
directed our course toward the channel on tlie leaver sith; 
of an ishuid, on which is the Spofford resideuce. Rowint^ 
under the okl chain bridge, whicli in part connects Salis- 
bury with Newburyport, and forms a quaint contrast with 
tlie more modern structure over the chainiel on the north 
side of the island, we crept along close to shore, and 
were. I believe, an hour and a half in going- a mile and 
a half to Shaw's Wharf, where our voyage ended. 

We had been eleven days on the three rivers, and had 
made a distance of about one hundred miles in all. 

The Sudbury, from Southville to Saxonville, cannot be 
navigated without a great deal of toil and trouble, and the 
Merrimac is too wide to furnish the peculiar pleasure 
which comes from following the continuous windings of 
a small stream: but the Sudbury, from Stone's Bridge at 
Saxonville to Concord, and the Concord thence to North 
Billerica, a distance of nearly fifty miles in all, is free 
from any difficulty ; and each stream, narrow, deep, and, 
generally, sluggish, is a delightful river to descend. I 
commend the nameless graces of each to all who love 
to follo^^' the Unknown River. 

T may add that Saxonville is the terminus of a branch 
ot tlie Boston and Albany Railroad, and the station of 
tlie Lowell Railroad at North Billerica is only a few 
minutes" walk from the nulls. 



54 



JiOATINd TllIPS. 



PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. 

I ought ])erhaps to say, by way of advice to any one 
who has a desire to take a boating trip, that almost any boat 

is suitable for the i)iirpose, provided it is light and i)()rtal)le. 

In the absence of any choice, however, I wo\ild recom- 
mend, especially for two persons, an eleven-" foot " skifi', aiid 
spruce oars seven and one-half feet long. 

A l)ack should be fitted to the stern seat of the boat,, 
as it adds greatly to the comfort and ease of the oarsman 
off duty. 




Three oars should be taken in preference to a pair 
alone. 

A painter of extra length should be provided, and a 
long stern rope may be very useful at times in rapids. 

A tent, such as the one I have used, which has proved 
very serviceable, may easily be made as follows. The 
main canvas is about sixteen feet long and seven wide. 
This is stretched over a ridge-pole and fastened to the 



THE SUDBURY, COXCOllD, AND MEltlllMAC. 55 

qToiuid l)y peys, iliree on eacli side, attached to double 
holes ill the eanvas about a foot and a half from the edge, 
thus leaA'ing a projecting flap Avheii the tent is up. .Vt 
the rear of the tent a triangular piec^e of canvas may be 
sewed to (Jiie half of the main piece, iuid can then be 
buttoned on the other side and fastened close to the 
ground by four or live pegs. For the front of the tent, 
instead of using canvas or leaving it entirely open, I have 
used two large pieces of mosquito-netting. By pinning 
these to the edge of the tent and allowing tlieiii to fall in 
folds on the ground, one is prc^tected against iiios(|uitoes 
and other plagues o' the night, while the projecting flaps, 
weigiited, witli the oars, for instance, keep them out at 
the sides. Cotton drilling, which comes two feet four 
aii<l a lialf inches in width, and sells at eight to ten cents 
per yard, is sufficiently stout, and twenty-five yards is 
enough for the main and rear pieces. 

Duck, which is considerably heavier and a little more 
durable, is of the same width, and costs from twelve to 
seventeen cents per yard. 

I have always cnit ridge-pole and supports at the begin- 
ning of a trip and carried them along to the end. I 
think, however, that it might be well to prepare two light 
supports of seasoned wood sharpened at the lower I'lids 
and covered with an iron ita'rulc, with h(des in the top, 
through which a (-ord could be |)assed and knotted on 
either side of each suj)port to keej) it from slipping. Tlie 



56 



BOATIXG TUirS. 



cord should then be fastened at each end to a peg Avhit-h 
is to be driven into the ground at a suitable distance from 
the bottom of the support. Five feet and eight inches is 
sufficiently high for the supports. 

It usually took us not over ten minutes to pitch our 
tent, using supports and ridge-pole of green wood; but 
with the improvements I have suggested it would take 




still less time and the tent would be more trim and secure, 
though our tent always stood up in all sorts of weather 
and never leaked. 

Of course one can readily dispense with a tent 
altogether and stop at hotels in the villages. If, how- 
ever, one stops at hotels he may nevertheless enjoy a bit 
of camp life by taking along cooking utensils and supplies. 
All that is necessary of the former are coifee-pot, tea-pot, 
a frying-pan (preferably the Acme), sauce-pan, tin cu})s, 
tin plates, knives, forks, and spoons. Other necessary 
adjuncts to camping are a hatchet and candlestick. As 



THE SUDBURY, COXCOh'D, AXD MEUIUMAC. .)7 

for supplies, tastes differ; but iilint>st everythino- desired, 
including fresh meat ordinarily, can be obtained at villages 
along the rivers. Canned roast beef and baked beans are, 
however, always good to start with and keep in the larder, 
and campers-out now generally agree that tea, perhajjs 
English breakfast tea, is fully as much a necessity as 
coffee. 

In camping, a thick comforter is, I think, the best kind 
of a blanket. It is necessary to have a rubber blanket 
also, an overcoat, preferably an old one ; and a rubber 
coat is very useful under any circumstance. 

A canvas bag is very convenient to keep the tent in 
and varioiis odds and ends, and a box should be made 
with a cover for cooking utensils and supplies. 

These suggestions may l)e useful in some respects, 
perhaps, to many who already liave found pleasure and 
health in tlie ever new and delightful experiences of a 
boating trip, and they will, I hope, be still more service- 
able to tliose to whom such a trip would be an entire 
novelty. 




AN AUTUMN CRUISE 



ON 



THE HOUSATONIC 



FROM 



PITTSFIELD TO THE SOUND. 



CHAPTER I. 

PITTSFIELD. — I.EE. 

A RIVER is a musical ])()eiu. Like the strains of an 
orchestra its various streams unite and pour for- 
ward ill rhythmic melody. Then, too, a river like a fine 
epic is well adorned, having for its constant themes woods 
and hills and mountains, a mill or a village, farm-houses 
and bridges, and a genuine atmosphere overhead. An 
epic is likely, however, to grow tiresome ; a river, never. 
You read a poem ; you enjoy a river. 

The Housatonic River, the finest of poems, is the chief 
ornament of Berkshire County, the finest of })r<)se. 

The west l)ra,nc]i of the Housatonic rises among the 
Hoosac Mountains of northwestern Massachusetts, a 
section of the State which has not inaptly been called 
the Switzerland of America. The principal source of the 
west branch is in tlie town of Lanesborough. Lake Pon- 
toosuc, a broad and beautiful sheet of water, dotted witli 
two islands in the middle, may be considered, however, 
tlic actual liead from wliich the stream flows soutli to 
Pittsfield. The principal source of the east branch is 
in Hinsdale, though a multitude of small streams join 
above Dalton, and their commingling waters flow west- 
ward along the line of the Boston and Albany Railroad 



62 BOATING TBIPS. 

to unite with the west branch just ])elow Pittsfiekl. The 
river after the union of the two branches tioAvs in a 
generally southerly direction through western Massachu- 
setts and western Connecticut for about one hundred and 
fifty miles to Long Island Sound. It derives its name 
from the Housatonic tribe of Indians, which formerly 
inhabited its banks. I have somewhere read that Hou- 
satoiiic sigjiified in the Indian tongue, " Over tlie 
mountains : "' but I should think a more correct interpre- 
tation might be "• Among the mountains." 

I had an appointment to meet a friend at Pittsfiekl 
towaixl the latter part of September for the ])urp()se of 
taking a row down the Housatonic — to enjoy a poem 
without reading. The skiff which was to embody the 
movement, the same one I had used in a voyage down the 
Sudbury, Concord, and Merrimac, was sent from Boston 
to Pittsfiekl about the middle of September by the 
American Express Company. The expressage was three 
dollars and ninety cents, double the ordinary rate. The 
fare from Boston is three dollars and forty cents. 

Pittsfiekl, tlie shire toAvn of the county, settled in 
1752, and named after William Pitt, the great English 
commoner, has a population of about twelve thousand. 
It is situated in the triangular space formed within the 
two branches of the river. The Boston and Albany 
Railroad intersects the town like the bar of an A, the 
branches of the river representing the prolongations of 



THE HO US ATOXIC RIVER. 



63 




64 



BOATINd r nil's. 



tlie letter. From a scjuare about the middle of the town 
four streets radiate toward each point of tlie compass, 
called respectively North, South, East, and West Streets. 
On the north side of the square is the old Town Hall, while 




M 



^'^^^or'ne\Wr,Vn<^ ^^^ 



opposite is a very handsome library of unique and artistic 
design. In the Athenanun in the upper pait of the 
library is a small, old-fashioned, U2)right mahogany (h'sk 
upon which Hawthorne wrote The Blithedale Romance, 
The Wonder-Book, and The House of the Seven 
Gal)les, while he lived in the little old red house on the 
north side of Stockbridge Bowl in Lenox. 



11 IK norsATOx/c iuver. 65* 

After (liiii)ig' ;il the American House, as the friend 
who was to accompany me on the I'iver was l)usily 
engaged in concocting a brief, or some such con- 
trivance, it was agi-eed that I sliould take the ))oat 
ahine to Lenox Station, Avliere he was to join me on 
the arrival of the hve o'clock train from Pittstield, and 
we were then to go on to Lee together. I proceeded 
to the office of the express com[)any, and was there 
subjected to a petty annoyance Avithout I'hynic and Avith 
little reason. The agent declined to deliver the boat 
at the river at Soutli-street bridge on tlic ground tliat it 
was beyond the schoolhouse, which lie aftirmed was the 
limit of delivery. It was beyond, but only a few rods, 
and it seemed as if there might l)e a slight concession 
to the exigency of the case : luit no, tlie Ip^e dixit of the 
agent was as decisive as the fulniination of a Ivoman 
emperor. It l)eho()ved me, therefore, to tind another 
place to launch the craft, and I soon ascertained that the 
west branch was navigable l)elow Pomeroy's lower W(»olen- 
mill. Here, however, antjther difticulty arose. i'he 
aforesaid agent declined to deliv<'r the boat nntil alter 
tive o'clock, so that it finally became necessary to ])r()cure 
a team at additional expense and a great deal of additional 
trouble. 

The teamster and 1 put the boat in the river below the 
last building of the mill, whic^h is on West Ilousatonic 
Street. It would be, however, an easy nuittei" to get (»ver 



V)6 



liOATINa TJnPS. 



the dams of both woolen-mills. The boat had been in 
ordinary several weeks, and the instant it touched the 
water, to use the familiar expression, leaked like a sieve. 
By this time several operatives from the mill had gathered 










^^^^/// msKexi 



around, and we lifted the boat on a walk, turned her over, 
and I was engaged an hour or more in caulking the widely 
distended seams, an operation in whicli one or another 
of the constantly relayed group of interested observers 
took a hand. It is always advisable to have a little 
oakum and oil-of-tn.r in Itoatinii'. T had neither, T must 



THE no I 'SA TOXIC i:i I i:i!: (3 7 

adiuit, however, and luul supposed there couhl be no 
possible occasion for anything of the sort, as the boat had 
been both caulked and painted in anticipation of the 
tri}). We used cotton batting, the only thing available, 
which proved (^uite serviceable, though I suspeet that the 
soaking in the water was the most efl'ective remedy. J 
had in\'ited any one of my eodaborers who felt so disposed 
to jt»in me as far as Lenox Station, and when the boat 
was ready fcu' its tinal launch a volunteer appeared, 
arrayed in his Sunday best. 

We put the bctat in once more and started on the voyage 
about three o'clock. The stream below the mill is about 
thirty feet wide, and winds very pleasantly in a small, 
narrow valley of its own. We soon came to a brand new 
wire fence which extended directly across our path and 
looked like a very troublesome obstacle, as the wires were 
full of sharp i)rojections. Drifting to it, however, stern 
foremost, my passenger lifted the lowest strand over his 
head, I carried tlie thorny burden precariously over my 
own, and we passed niuler without a scratch. Just above 
South-street bridge we ran aoainst a log boomed across 
the stream. We passed close to the west bank under the 
Avest end of the log by depressing the boat nearly to the 
"•unwale in the water. I do not believe that the boat 
displaced (juite so much water again during the trip. 
Pulling under the old wooden bridge immediately below, 
we rowed around a bend and l)unted aofainst another \o^ 



68 BOATiyG TBI PS. 

lying across the stream. My companion in assisting to 
lift the boat over the east end lost his footing on the 
mossy bank, and slid into the water considerably above 
his knees, amid expressions of great disgust. We quickly 
got the boat over, however, and started on and soon came 
to another obstruction in the shape of a plank walk. We 
found just room enough, however, to pass under the east 
end with ease. 

'rhe river had been continually rapid, and we went 
swiftly forward, now past a clump of woods and now 
along open meadows with both banks and hillsides near 
at hand. The water, discolored by the refuse of the mills 
above, and darkened still more Ijy dense, threatening 
clouds overhead, flowed with peculiar shady effects over 
a grassy Ijed in shallow places, though the bottom could 
not be seen at all in the deeper pools. There was always 
sufficient water, however, and after we got below the 
junction of the east branch, a stream about the same size 
and consistency as the other, we had an abundance. I 
allude to the state of the water, as the trip had been 
* delayed on account of a fear that we would not have 
sufficient water to get along at all, as the season had been 
remarkably dry. I have little hesitation, however, i:i 
saying that the river from Pittsfield to Falls Village i.-? 
navigable in a flat-bottomed boat at all times ; and that 
one can indeed get along below Falls Village, too, although 
the greater the volume of water below that point the 
greater the pleasure of a trip. 



Till-: iiors ATOXIC iuvku. 69 

The river soon wound under another bridge and thi'ii 
writhed in extraordinary fashion in quite an extensive 
intervale. We h)itered Hk>ng its windings, the swift 
current beguiling us into thinking that we Avere making 
great progress and would easily reach Lenox Station by 
five o'clock. Greylock drifted to and fro across the rear 
of the valley in the distance to the north. Perhaps, how- 
ever, it was the winding river that drifted, to and fro. 
1 know not how it may have been ; the effect was the 
same, and even now in memory I see a blue mountain of 
vaguely beautiful outline, solemnly moving from side to 
side across a valley landscape, shadowily })icturesque. 

The clouds, however, threatened rain every moment, 
and the rising wind, blowing fresh as if from the ocean, 
added stimulus to our constant ap})rehension of an imme- 
diate downpour. It did not come, however, but the 
darkness above only served to bestow on all the valley 
an intense, deep, sombre green. No house was in sight, 
and all was silence. The river was as variable in its 
course as the wind is usually supposed tt) be, and some- 
times, assuming that the wind was steadfast, we had the 
breeze at our back, frequentl}" on one side or the other, 
and occasionally in our faces. After a while 1 resigned 
the oars to my companion, who had long been itching to 
row. He exerted his muscle with terrific force, and, as 
the boat was light, and easy i-owing, and (piickly turned, 
he produced some startling aberrations fiom the ordinary 



70 BOATIN(^ TEIPS. 

line of our progress. His knees Avere the occasion of 
a great deal of trouble. Having once got the stroke 
well past those troublesome projections, however, he was 
all right for the rest of it. Taking one quite desperate 
stroke, however, after the usual interruption at the knees, 
there was a loud crack and the rowing-seat, which was 
thin and springy, broke into a half-dozen pieces and let 
the oarsman down to the bottom of the boat with a great 
shock. Luckily we had with us a stray board which we 
had used as a rest to keep our feet out of the water which 
poured into the boat in spite of the cotton batting, and 
this was made to answer for a rowing-seat, while there- 
after we bailed oftener than ever. 

And now the river had come to a woody mountain on 
the east side <»f the valley, and l)egan a game of tag with 
the high and mighty dignitary. It ran up to the 
mountain, and then edged away in the devious ways 
known only to a river, and then again, after approaching 
the immovable and dignified mountain, bounded away 
over the meadows. After a while we heard a train 
whistling ahead, and, its it was past five oV-lock. we 
concluded we were not far from Lenox Station. We 
had not once caught sight of flie railroad, however. 
Pulling ra])idly on we came to a bridge, the fifth from 
Pittsfield, T thiidv, and below on the west \mnk was a .arge 
house. Li(|uiring of a boy where we were, he said at 
Dewey's Station, which is <»nly three miles below Pitts- 



77//-; lloUSATOMC IlIVKli. 71 

fielfl. Tlio boy — lie was not an encouraging youth at 
all — gave a very disheartening account of the long 
distance still before us to Lenox Station ; but both my 
companion and myself, voting him an ill-omened prophet, 
decided that there was nothing else to be done but 
keep on. 

The river from Dewey's goes with an evener current, 
and renewed the game of tag with a range of mountains 
wdiich begins just below. Soon after starting, the clouds, 
which mercifully for us had not dispensed rain, not even 
a drop, broke into fleecy mists and drifted away, tinged 
with a deep red glow by the setting sun. After a while 
we found ourselves on a dark river in a very dark la«d- 
scape. And now my com})anion proved to be a com- 
panion indeed. Malachi was an optimist. He assured 
me every few strokes that it could not be far to Lenox 
now, and in truth I often gave him the same assurance in 
return. We were once startled nearly out of our whs by 
the v(nce of a man on a bank Ashing. We had not 
perceived him at all when he lu'oke the deep, black 
solitude by asking us if we could assist him to splice the 
main brace. We explained that we were not sailors, only 
oarsmen. In vain I endeavored to ascertain whether wc 
were in the pond opposite Lenox Station, but 1 conld 
not tell when we })assed through it, nor see the station, 
though we passed within fifty yards of it, and Malachi 
was as ignorant as myself. We finally i)nlled under 



72 nOATINd Tlill'S. 

a bridge, and, just below, tlie bow of tbe boat grated 
harshly on the gravel at the edge of a stone dam. 
Entirely unfamiliar with the locality, and, as we had 
a})i)arently not passed through any })ond, thinking that 
we had not yet arrived at Lenox, we nevertheless 
moored the boat, as tlie channel below the dam was dry. 
As a matter of fact, the depot of Lenox Station was at 
the end of the l)ridge we had just passed, but having no 
suspicion of it, and still encouraged by the optimism of 
my friend Malachi, whose tendency, as well as my own, 
was forward, we walked doA\n the track with alterna- 
tions of doubt and conviction, a mile to Lenox Furnace ; 
and then, after sending a telegram to my intended fellow- 
voyag'er who had gone on to Lee, we retraced our steps 
to Lenox Station, where, upon the departure of the nine- 
o'clock train that carried Malachi back to Pittsfield, I took 
the stage to Lenox, distant two and one-half miles, and 
founcf shelter, which I had at one time seriously despaired 
of obtaining, at Curtis's Hotel. In the office T gazed 
with a present sym])athy upon an allegorical picture 
which graced one of the walls: ''The Voyage of Life — 
Old Age." On the hearth the embers of the fire sent 
a thrill of warmth through me, for the night air was cold, 
and supper, a ten o'clock one, — the table is excellent, — 
soon sent another of a different and better kind. The 
hotel is quite a fashionable resort and performs its share 
in what Mr. James, in his note about Hawthorne (a very 



THE HO L','^ ATOXIC HIVE It. 73 

poetic strain of criticism, not in tlie least inconclusive), 
calls the lionization of Lenox. Numerous odds and ends 
of antique bric-a-brac are scattered over the house. The 
rao"e for that sort of thing; inav indeed be said to reach 
high-water mark in Courtis's large, and, in the way 
indicated, old-fashioned and comfortable hostelry. 

I took the early coach the following morning, to meet 
my fellow-voyager on the arrival of the early train at the 
station. The regular stage-driver is also, strange to say, 
the station-agent, a remarkal)le union of eallings, it seems 
to me. Another driver, however, took his })lace, who, as 
it turned out, had no key to the station wherein our oars 
and baggage had been locked up the night before, and so 
W3 had to wait nearly an hoTir for the arrival of the 
double-headed functionary before we could get our stuff 
and go on. How odd the scene around looked by the 
garish ligiit of day I There Avas the pond, or, rather, 
a narrow channel through the middle of a wide expanse 
of mud, and the bridge, and the river, all as plain as 
need be ! 

We found the gate at the head of the sluice-way at the 
east end of the dam raised so we could pass under ; other- 
wise it would have been necessary to carry over on the 
east side, as it is not advisable, under any circumstances, 
I should think, to try the river below the dani. Follow- 
ing the canal, we soon came to aiiothei- dam. Taking the 
boat out beloM- the gate-way, we had a very short carry 



74 



JIOATJNG nilFS. 



around tlie lower side of tlie mill to the river. The mill 
belongs to the Smith Paper Company, and is known as 
the Pleasant Valley jNIill. Paper is made here one hun- 
dred inches wide, on the largest machine in tlie country. 







Pidling on down stream, we soon came in sight of a 
bridge, above which rose, just beyond on the west bank, 
the S({uare tower, surmounted by three l)rick chimneys, 
of an iron furnace, which sometime apparently impressed 
the name Lenox Furnace on the small settlement there- 



THK 110 US. 1 JO M(J HI VEB. 7 5 

about. The dam is just l)el()w the bridge. If water is 
pouring over tlie daui, the best way to get around is to go 
to tlie west shore, and carry around the grist-mill, putting 
in luider the barrel-flume below. The water was so low 
that we let the boat down over the middle of the dam. 
We pidled by the furnace, which has an air of ancient 
greatness gone to rack and ruin, and in a few minutes 
came to another dam of the Smith Pa})er Company. We 
carried two or three rods, and put in the sluice-way on tlie 
east side of the dam, and thence floated down to the mill, 
where we carried the l)oat around the mill on a wheel- 
barrow, and put in tlie tail-race just below. A high bank 
made it awkward to launch the boat, and the stern di})ped 
some water. After bailing, several hundred lucky-bugs that 
had been scoope<l in remained and beat an incessant and 
multitudinous tattoo. The water ran swiftly in the race, 
and we soon emerged into the river. P>re long we came to 
an island, and attempting to get by got aground, and had 
to go back and take the west side, where is an abundance 
of swift water, Innnediately below, the river spread out 
over a gravelly l^ed, and we had vei'v liard work to i)ush 
over. The banks are (juitc ])ictures(pie here, especially 
just above and below an old wooden bridge. A range of 
mountains wliich borders the valley on the east adds line 
emphasis to the scene. All admiration of scenery, how- 
ever, was soon stopped by anothci- dam, which furnishes 
motive power to the Cohunl)ia Mills. If the water is 



76 BOATING Til IPS. 

high, the best way to get hy is to pull over the embaiik- 
ineiit on the west side. We made a carry on the east side 
with a wheelbarrow. Then a short \i\\\\ over a pond-like 
stretch of water, past a row of houses on the east side in 
the village of Lee, brought us to the dam of the Eagle 
Mills. If the water is high, it is better to carry over on 
the west bank. We had a hard tug of it on the east 
side, taking out just above the mill, and lugging the boat 
across the road before we could put in. Immediately 
below is the dam of the Housatonic Mill. Here it is 
necessary to put in the sluice-way on the east side. AVe 
left our boat at the bridge just above the milt, which is 
very nearly the centre of the village. 



CHAPTER II. 

LEE. — GREAT HARRINGTON. 

nr EE is an energetic and thriving village, having 
a much more business-like appearance than other 
towns along the river. The most striking feature of 
natural beauty is Fern Cliff, a rugged ledge of granite, 
crowned, however, witli graceful trees, that frowns upon 
the town just back of the principal street. We remained 
at Lee two days, and one afternoon attended tlie annual 
meeting of the Fern Cliff' Association, a society which 
has for its object the improvement of the streets of the 
village, and chiefly attending to sidewalks and crossings, 
and setting out shade-trees and slirubljery. The meeting 
was held on Fern Cliff, wluch connnands a very fine view 
of the houses of the village below, and the river and 
Berkshire Hills. A very eloquent address was delivered 
by the Rev. Washington Gladden, on The Use of the 
Beautiful. The accomplished orator sj)oke in the i»pen 
air, in the midst f)f a scene of beauty tliat was indeed 
an omnipresent commentary on his theme. There is an 
association of the same character at Stockbridge called 
the Laurel Hill Society, from an elevation near by, which 
has wrought a marvel in tlie appearance of that beautiful 
place, and keeps it in a marvelously fine condition. It 



BOATiNd mirs. 



is to be hoped, indeed, that a society having the same 
object will spring up in eveiy village throughout the 
land. 








'^^^^/7/6y/>^^ /:7^^ C7;Yf 



Tlie customary and favorite drive from Lee is to Lenox, 
<listant about three miles. The distinguishing character- 
istic of Nahant is l)rown paint, Newport affects tlie 
veranda, and Saratoga the broad piazza ; l)ut life at 
Lenox is incomplete unless one lives in a house sided 



TlIK irorSATOXIC lUVKU. 79 

with shingles. There is the ohl-i'ashioiied colonial man- 
sion, too, and the more modern box, and a great variet}^ 
of styles besides. Formerly tlie county seat, the old 
Court House and town buildings impart to the village an 
exaggerated idea of past importance. It overflows with 
fashionable lile through a long season. There is also, 
withal, a distinctive literary flavor about the town. 
Hawthorne, Beecher, Holmes, Mrs. Kemble, Miss Sedg- 
wick, ]\Iiss Cushman, have all lived there at times ; while 
Longfellow, James, and Melville have dwelt in the valley 
near at hand. It has, however, as its crowning glor}', a 
constant vision of a broad landscape of valley and moun- 
tain, indescribably blended in beauty. The drive is then, 
ordinarily, to the top of I>ald Head Mountain, which 
commands a fine prospect of the ''1)rilliant and generous" 
landscape. The vie^^' southward is, in truth, superl). 
Below, near at hand, is Stockbridge Bowl; beyond, rising 
above fertile upland and lowland, a rolling plain of field 
and forest, is Monument Mountain, while a range t)f the 
Green Mountains guards the valley on the east, and the 
Taconic range, which mounts high up in air in the Dome, 
runs along tlic western side. Then the drive is along the 
road that leads near the northerly edge of the Bowl, by 
Tanglewood, made famous as a residence of Hawthorne. 
It is a small, red house, with a wing on the west side, 
which was formerly the east wing. Apart from lliis 
change, however, and a few slight alterations \\ithin, the 



80 



BOATiyG TBIPS. 



lioiise is the same as wlieii it was occuj^ied by Hawthorne. 
On a glass in one of the windows is still preserved the 
inscri})tion, cut in the author's own handwriting, " Nath'l 
Hawthorne, March 21st, 1853." There are open fire- 
2)laces in two of the rooms, but its chief value as a resi- 
dence is the beautiful landscapes the windows on the 
south side of the house frame of the Berkshire Hills. 







*Vood 



From Tanglewood a road leads direct to Stockbridge, 
one (jf the most beautiful villages in the Housatonic 
vallc}' ; and thence one may return to Lee either by a road 
over the hills or along the river. This drive is, through- 
out, in a region of fashion. One is, indeed, almost as 
likely to meet a four-in-hand as a farmer's wagon. Fine 
residences are frequent, and everywhere are evidences of 
careful cultivation. 



THE HO USA TONIC HI VEIL 8 1 

There is a loiiesoiiie drive, however, east of Lee, which 
is ver}- fine in its way, and in some respects superior to 
tlie other. The road leads just north of the vilhige, 
tlirougli a long, steep, woody pass between two mountains 
to the town of Washington. The oi-iginal settlers have 
of hite years, though, for the most })art, descended into tlie 
valley or flown westward, and a foreign population has 
largely succeeded to the old farms ; and now upon the 
high lands here, remote from city ov village, many a son 
of Erin cultivates his scanty potato patch, grazes his 
cattle, and views with utmost complacency a noble land- 
scape of tund)ling mountains. Then continuing south 
along the u})land to the road from Becket, you turn west- 
ward, and from the summit of the mountain, as you pre- 
pare to descend, the Adew is more than simply beautiful : 
it is grand. The road itself is visible only a short distance 
as it winds down the side of the mountain, and there is 
naught else to l)e seen but a billowy sea of forests, rising 
and lalling in mountain crests until they dash upward in 
the distant horizon in the misty bights of the lordly Cats- 
kills. The striking feature of the scene, due to the singu- 
lar vantage of the point of view, is the utter absence of 
anything like civilization, even a cultivated iield. You 
might be among the fastnesses of the Adirondacks or the 
wilds of Maine, for aught that a})2)ears The road below 
is winding and steep in ])la(!t's, but from East Lee j)retty 
level and straiuht to Lee. 



82 BOATING TlilPS. 

On Saturday morning we renewed the voyage. We 
carried the boat around the west side of the mill and put 
lier in the tail-race just l)elow, and got off at ten o'clock on 
a swift current of Tiberish yelloAv. We stopped on the 
west shore, just below the outlet of the canal, and climbed 
u[) the bank, over the refuse of a quarr}', to the edge of 
the excavation which looked like an inverted windowless 
palace of white marble. It is a singular fact that white 
marble is fre(iuently used in and about Lee for founda- 
tions and walls, seemingly a base prostitution of pure and 
valuable material. The river is narrow, and winds very 
pleasantly with a rippling current past the East Lee val- 
ley, and then at the mouth of the wider valley which runs 
between two mountain ranges to Tyringham, pursuing 
here, for many miles, a westerly course as far as Glendale. 
The Housatonic is, in truth, a confirmed coquette, con- 
stantly flirting with one mountain range or another, and 
frequently several at the same time. 

Our sudden and unexpected appearance was the occa- 
sion of stampeding several horses, and quite often an 
affright to the patient cow who usuall}- turned and 
clumsily trotted away in a state of mild distraction. We 
rowed very close to two Alderney bossies, however, wlio 
stood with forefeet firndy planted in the water and gazed 
at us with melancholy surprise in their wide-open, inno- 
cent brown eyes, curiosity evidently overcoming their 
fear. After rowing about an hour, we met two boys com- 



riiK iiorsATo.xic nrvEn. 83 

ing up stream with an effort, in a light outrigged pair oar, 
who turned about and accompanied us under the raih'oad 
bridge, and thence, across the pond, to the dam at South 
Lee. We put ashore on the east side, and in a few min^ 
utes (twelve in all, I believe), with the help <>f the boys, 
had carried in front of the mill of the Hurlbut Paper 
Comi)any, and after sliding the boat over a stone embank- 
ment opposite the middle of the west side of the mill, 
launched her on the river. Just below the mill we 
entered a westward sweep calmly curving between border- 
ing trees, and pulled away from a stee}), densely wooded 
mountain slope which rises sheer from the east end, and 
seemed to grow Inglier and higher with every stroke. A 
rock peered out of water here and there, but there was a 
fair current and the going was very delightful all the way 
to Stockbridge. Just above the village, we })assed under 
a slender bridge which leads to Ic}' Glen, half a mile dis- 
tant on the east side, where ice is said to remain all the 
year round. At one o'clock we pulled ashore under the 
west end of the bridge which leads from the station at 
Stockbiidge, to the village. 

Stockbridge is a singularl}- beautiful New England 
village. It is located on a broad and fertile intervale 
close to the Housatonic. The principal avenue, which 
is a little over a mile in length, is nearly straight and 
nearly one hundred and fifty feet wide in its widest part. 
It is, of course, well shaded by long i-ows of trees, and is 



84 BOATINd TRIPS. 

kept scrupulously clean. The houses beneath the droop- 
ing elms are very tasteful, and there hangs about the 
entire village an air of aristocratic quiet very graceful and 
becoming. Stockbridge obtains its chief distinction as 
having been the residence of Jonathan Edwards. The 
house is still pointed out where he wrote his most famous 
production, The Freedom of the Will. A monument 
has been erected to his memory in Stockbridge Street. 
At the lower end of the street, on a slight elevation, is an 
uncouth, unhewn stone, })erhaps thirty feet high, and 
upon the l)ase the inscription, " The Ancient Burial Place 
of the Stockbridge Indians — The Friends of Our Fatliers. 
1734." There are many beautiful residences in and 
around the village, among others the summer home of 
David Dudley Field, the well-known New York lawyer, 
Henry M. Field, the editcu', and Ivison, the book publisher. 
The towns of Great Barrington and Stockbridge, Lenox 
and Lee, are all indeed fine tributes on man's part toward 
the adornment of a remarkably })icturesque and beautiful 
region. 

We dined at the Stockbridge House, which, like Curtis's 
Hotel, abounds in old-fashioned colonial bric-a-brac. 
Among other furnishings are fine ancient stoves for open 
wood-tires. One is surmounted by a huge iron dome that 
embodies a strange conceit of the beautiful in ornamenta- 
tion. 

We got under way again at two o'clock, and greatly 



77/A' no USA TOXIC IN I 'A/.'. 85 

enjoyed the sail along the winding, watery lane below tlie 
bridge. The river is very crooked. At one i)laee Ave 
approached quite close to a chnrcli and the stone tower, 
inclosin"' a chime of hells, erected in commemoration 
of tlie site where John Sargeant first preached the gos})el 
to the Indians, and presented to the town by Mrs. David 
Dudley Field, and then shot away, leaving it behind 
forever, as we supposed. Tlie river, however, after 
wandering a long way eastward, returned again almost 
to the base of the tower, I was about to say, and the tower 
disappeared and came into view several times thereafter. 
Below we i)assed around the ox-bow. The banks were 
frec^uently lined with willows, and were often dense with 
masses of creeping vines. We pulled by a ver}' cosy 
landing on the east side, where were moored three boats 
of a liigh and dainty aspect. I should think, indeed, that 
tliere would be more l)oating here, as the stream is wide, 
the current slow, and the banks and all the scenery 
remarkably line. The river is superior on some accounts 
to the Concord at Concord, simply lacking boating culti- 
vation. It flows slowly to Glendale, where there is a 
dam and mill. We bunted the bow of the boat ao-ainst 
a corner of the bulkhead on the Avest side, directly in 
front of the tower of the mill, and procuring a AvheelbarroAV 
Avheeled the boat around. It Avas only seven minutes from 
the time we touched the bulkhead before Ave Avere again 
under Avav in the swift cnrrenl below the mill. In a few 



86 



BOATIN(^ Tin PS. 



minutes tlie river makes an exceedingly acute bend, which 
the raih-oad foUows on the east l)ai)k. At tlie end of the 
bend is a high dam \x\ih. a red mill on the west bank 
below. We landed at the easterly end of the dam and 
made the carry over it in about twelve minutes. The 




'^"''^^'Gleml^Je 



^^y^-0, lif^p^;^^ 



channel below is (juite wide and shallow, and is best 
navigable on the east side. Just below the mill, however, 
the various streams unite and pour through a narrow 
channel, in which are two large rocks set diagonally in 
the current a little way apart. The oarsman intended 
to go near the west sh<5re ; but the current proved too 
strong and swept us down toward the rocks with great 



THE HO US ATOXIC niVER. 87 

force and we passed between tlitnn with a rush, and, 
luckily, without touching. The river below is shallow 
and rocky. It is not dangerous, but very bothersome. 
We bumped on rocks, and every once in a while hitting 
some obstruction, let the boat swing around, so that we 
Sometimes went bow on, though most of the time, and 
such was our intention, stern foremost. Tlie Housatonic 
Railroad crosses tlie river on a bridge just above the end 
of the shallows. The stretch of rapids is a short lialf-mile 
in length, though a very long one indeed it seemed in 
reality. Not far below the end of tlic sliallows is a fall, 
safe to run at almost any stage of water. We plunged 
through stern foremost in fine style, and then passed 
between the fragmentary ends of a ruined dam by some 
miserably old and wretched abandoned buildings on the 
east bank, going at a lively pace in swift water. 
Sliortly below, — I think it was here, — the river divides 
into several channels, and we wandered a long time 
through one, a delightful, narrow, leaf-embowered water- 
path, where the current ran deep and swift through many 
a circuitous crook before finding its way to the main 
stream again. 

The river rounds the northerly end of Monument 
Mountain and then half way along its westerly side, until 
stopped at the dam of the Monument Mills, at Housa- 
tonic. The mountain, covered with a scraggy growth of 
trees, rises preci[)itously from the water. Near the 



88 Ii(>ATJX<^ Till PS. 

sunuiiit art' rnuo-ed faeades of ioumIi i-raiiite. The sum- 
mit, wliieli is in tlie luiddk' of tlu' valley, coiiiinands a 
wide, circular vieM' of great beauty. The elevation 
derives its name from a tradition that an Indian maiden, 
l)lighted in love and unable to overcome her passion, 
sought relief and eternity by jumping from one of the 
cliffs. Her body was interred where it was found, and 
above her grave was built up "a cone of small, loose 
stones." Every visitor thereafter, even when all her 
dusky compatriots had vanished from the scene, added, as 
in dutyboiuid, a stone to the })ile, which at length became 
a monument of imposing dimensions. A verital)le icono- 
clast, however, put an end to the venerable custom a long 
time ago. by scattering the pile to discover what was 
beneath, and, most }troper retribution, found nothing for 
his trouble. The mountain itself, which had always 
within memory been called Monument Mountain, is ]iow, 
indeed, the single eternal memorial t»f her sad fate. 

The story is verj" happily embalmed in verse l)y Bryant. 

Hawthorne cora[)ares Monument Mountain, clad in rich 
and diversified autunuial foliage, to a huge, headless s[)hinx 
\vrap])ed in a Persian shawl. 

We landed by a clump of Avillows on the west shore, and 
at the village store found a team, upon which we wei'C 
carried, with the boat, across the bridge and around the 
end of Cone's Mill, where, after a delay of only twenty 
minutes in all. wv put in the tail-race and swiftly floated 



TlIK IlorSATOXIC HfVKi:. 89 

into the pond above C'oiie's new mill, wliiidi is abont half 
a mile below the other. We landed at the west end of 
the dam, and withont much trouble hauled the boat over 
a gravel embankment, and after sliding her down the 
loAver side, started on. Only a slender stream of water 
was ])()ui-ing over the dam, and we found the channel 
below very shallow in several })laces ; and just above a wire 
fence we had to take the boat out and lower her by means 
of a cord at the bow and another at the stern, into the end 
01 the tail-race. The mill comprises two large buildings of 
brick, with stone trinnaings, and it is altogether the hand- 
somest mill structure on the flousatonic. I should think 
all the dams at Housatonic might be carried l)y on the 
w^estsidc; but they are so near together, and the carries 

woidd be, the first so long, and all so troublesf)me, that it 

' . . . . . 

is a saving of tinu' and vexation to get a team. 

And now, without feai' of further obstruction, we were 
fairly on our way to Great Barrington. The river seems 
to pursue a diagonal course over the (Ireat liarrington 
intervale. We pulled as rapidly as possible, as the shades 
of evening were beginning to fall, and the cool air was an 
in(bicement to keep a-going. The sun after a while dis- 
appeared in a cloud of fire behind the Taconic donu' 
which towers two thousand feet above the valley, leaving 
the slope in view, a solenui mass of darkest green, while 
Monunu?nt Mountain, at the other end of tlie valley, stood 
o>it in a ])ur[)lish glow, clear and distinct in the still air. 



00 



liOATINd TRIPS. 



I remembev no river scene, indeed, of greater beauty. 
The stream itself, too, was very l)eautiful. The banks on 
either side sh)ped down to tlie water's very edge of 
smooth turf, oft l)roken, however, by a clump of trees or 




masses of (dustering vines ; and we occasionally passed a 
little inlet, usually guarded by a martial array of cat-o"- 
nine-tails. Later, the water was snu)oth as polished black 
marble, and reflected, with gloomy accuracy, the dark 
banks and tlie floating bout whenever we ceased to row. 
We came to tlie flrst bridge, which is just above tlie dam 



THE HO USA TOXIC MI I ^EB. 9 1 

at Great Barrington, as a tuneful clock in the village was 
chiming the liour of seven. We tied the boat fast near 
the west end of the bridge, and having stowed our lieavy 
baggage at a curious, old, rambling, tumble-down house 
close by, we found shelter at the Berkshire House, a very 
substantial hotel. 

There is a stateliness and dignity about Great Barring- 
ton as great in reality as its high-sounding name would 
imply. It is a rare combination of New-England thrift 
and New-York opulence. Beecher, it is, I believe, who 
once declared that he never entered the village without 
wishing tliat he was never to leave it. Here Bryant 
practised law before finally straying into journalism and 
the more congenial field of literature. 

Cxreat Barrington is in the midst of a fine region for 
drives. The road to the top of Monument Mountain is 
deservedly in favor, while one of the finest drives in 
Berkshire is through North Egremont, and then by way 
of Hillsdale, a town just over the border of Massachu- 
setts, in New York, to Bash-Bish Falls, in Copake. The 
crest of a hill just above Hillsdale commands a magnifi- 
cent view of the Catskills and an extensive view of the 
Berkshire hills, whose broad slopes, blooming with culti- 
vation and beauty, roll upward, in the far distance, 
beyond a fertile expanse of territory where the valley is 
widest). 

There is another way to Bash-Bish : through South 



92 BOATING rnips. 

Egremont, and tlieuce over the mountains ; and this is 
perhaps the most picturesque drive of all. The view of 
tiie Taconic range, as one goes Avestward over the country, 
which is comparatively level, to the foot of the mountains, 
is especially fine. The Dome of Mount Everett, alone, 
remains unchangeable upon its huge, buttress-like founda- 
tion, as one draws near; Init elsewhere, the mountains 
break, from time to time, into new and beautifully vary- 
ing sha})es. The view of the Taconics is essentially the 
same over the Hillsdale road, l)ut the way, as one mounts 
upward through the valley between the mountains, 
especially if the day is warm, is, upon the whole, rather 
more agreeal)le, and very attractive withal. The music of 
a brook alongside the road at length dies away, however, 
and as you emerge from the thick woods, you come upon 
tlie now quite famous Goodale Sky Farm, airily })erched 
high up on the mountain-side, where there is a most 
enchanting view through the verdurous walls of the long 
valley up which you have just come, and over a beautiful 
landscape beyond to Greylock, fifty miles distant. Soon 
thereafter, the head of the valley terminates upon the 
tab'e-land of the town of Mount Wasliington, which is 
surrounded on every side by mountain tops, which })eer 
up here and there, above the edges of the plain, as if 
they were playing a game of bo-peep. 

Soon descending, however, from this high and charm- 
ing region, the delight of the ubiquitous summer boarder. 



THE no USA TOXKJ RI VEB. 93 

one hears again, from amidst tlie sliady recesses through 
which the road, for the most part, wanders, the accompani- 
ment of a I'unning stream, or sees it tumbling over its 
rocky bed ; and opposite Eagle's Nest, just above the head 
of the Bash-Bish ravine, is a superl) view of the towering- 
C'atskills, whicli, as one gazes through the framing walls 
of the valley, rock-ribbed on one side and densely wooded 
on the other, look in the distance, beyond the broad and 
l)eautiful expanse of country intervening, like blue bar- 
riers of eternity. 

The name Bash-Bish, which was originally bestowed 
upon the falls by the Indians, signifies, it is said, Wild 
Waters. A hotel has been built near the foot of the falls, 
at the liead of the ravine, which is indeed altogether a 
delightfully wild mountain nook. 



CHAPTER IIL 

GREAT BARRINGTOX. KENT. 

Ij^ARLY Monday morning we carried tlie boat around 

the east end of the dam of the Berkshire Woolen 

Mills, and put in just below. We threaded our way 














among the rocks under the foot-bridge of the mill and 
a passenger bridge just below, and then swiftly drifted 
stern foremost through a stretch of rapids, past a deserted 



Till-: IIOISATONW HIV EH. 



95 



mill on one side and the houses of the village opposite. 
The sun shining on the turbulent water gave it the 
appearance of molten lead in violent agitation, and it was 
at times difficult, on account of the perplexing glare, to 
guide the boat aright among the rocks, though the rapid 
is not in the least dangerous. We soon came to a bridge 




in the reach below, pulled \\\) under the west end at seven 
o'clock, and leaving all the baggage in the boat, walked to 
the hotel, which is at the corner of Bridge Street and 
Main Street, for l)reakfast. In the History of Great Har- 
rington, by Charles J. Taylor, it is stated that the bridge 
is eight hundred and lorty-five feet above the level of tide- 
water. 



96 liOATINd TRIPS. 

Oil oiir way to the hotel we met a man who would, one 
would imagine, have little difficulty in proving a mistake 
of identity if occasion required, as he wore a heavy 
imperial, one half of which was white and the other red. 
Six witnesses having looked at him from one side would 
swear, without a moment's hesitation, and correctly, that 
he had red whiskers ; and another half dozen would swear 
with equal facility that they were Avhite. The fable of 
the kiiioht of the gold and silver shield mieht indeed 
easily l)e replaced, in lower Berkshire at any rate, by the 
instance of the man with the red-and-wliite imperial. 

A little south of the Episcopal C'hur(-h in tlie village is 
an old house, which has been standing unaltered for 
nearly a century and a half, ''the (juaintness of its archi- 
tecture now })reseiiting " — I (juote from an unknown 
correspondent — " a strange and interesting contrast to 
its modern neighbors. In 1777, General Lincoln and staff 
were quartered in the house for a few days before being 
sent with the Massachusetts troops to oppose Burgoyne's 
advance from Crown Point upon Bennington. Three 
years later, in 1780, it sheltered Washington on his 
journey nortli from Hartford. Within its ancient walls 
William CuUen Bryant, while practising law in Great 
Barrington, wooed and wed Miss Fannie Fairchild ; 
a union," the writer adds, " that in every way fulfilled the 
beauty of its i)romise." There, also, Bryant wrote 
Green River, A Walk at Sunset, To the West Wind, 



THE IIOUSATONIC RIVER. JJJ 

and one of his longest and most notable poems, delivered 
before the Phi Beta Kap})a Society of Harvard in 1821, 
the year of his marriage. 

We started again at eight o'clock, and found the going 
remarkably good, but as remarkably crooked. Language 
is indeed inadequate to convey an idea of tlu; fantastic 
turnings of the river. In about an hour Ave came in sight 
of the Leavitt Mansion, on the east bank. The river 
swept by apparently, but soon again turned to the man- 
sion ; and then, after rambling about the meadows a while, 
returned once more, and then gliding under a bridge, 
Avhich is only two miles from Gi'eat Barrington, ap- 
proached the base of a woody hill, and the mansion linally 
disap[)eared as we pulled south through a comparatively 
lonix reach. Soon, however, the river turned from the 
mountain at a point where the steep slope has been 
denuded of trees, leaving exposed a l)r()ad strip of rock- 
ribbed surface, sharply defined at each edge from base to 
summit, by dense green woods, — a peculiar transforma- 
tion that i"re(][uently occurs in the valley below Falls 
Village, — and began to rand)lc once more in the wide 
intervale. 

By and by we passed the mouth of (h-ecn River, a stream 
celebrated in the verse of Byrant, which was most appro- 
priately named, as its Avaters are of a decided greenish 
tinge. The Housatonic itself, transparent as air, rellected 
every grain f)f sand and parti-covered gravel and ilowing 



98 BOArixa rnips. 

weeds in the channel with luminous softness, except where 
the current slowly flowed into deep places. Often schools 
of fish broke from under the boat, scattering in rajs like 
a shower of arrows. Trees lined the banks from time 
to time, and added constant variety to the continually 
varying course of the river. It was indeed a place in 
which to linger ; but we pulled on at a steady pace, and 
after a while passed under a red bridge, just below which 
is a little fall, and then continued on to an old wooden 
bridge that leads to the north end of Sheffield Street, a 
long, shady avenue, Avith houses on either side. 

Sheffield is indeed a handsome (jld town ; but it has a 
tor})id appearance as if it were dozing under its sleepy 
elms. The municipality of Sheffield, England, would, I 
have little doubt, pay a round sum, if it could have its 
namesake transplanted just as it is and set down some- 
where in the busy region within its corporate limits. Be- 
low, the bed of the stream was occasionally filled with 
trunks of trees that sometimes almost blocked up our way. 

A half-hour's pull brought us to another long, covered, 
weather-stained bridge. The road from the west end leads 
direct to the middle of the village of Sheffield which is only 
a short distance away. Here we pulled up for a while, and 
my fellow-voyager, after we had partaken of some sardines, 
used the oil on his boots and pronounced it good. The 
river then winds worse than ever, if it were possible, until 
it approaches a range of hills on the east side of the valley. 



THE JIOUSATOXIC lilVER. 



99 



wliereon are several houses, the first, exce[»tiiig, perhaps, 
at rare intervals an isolated biiikling, we liad seen since 
leaving Great Barrington. 

We pulled the boat ashore at the 
end of a reach under the hill and at 
one of the farm-houses had a sumptu- 
ous repast of rj'e-bread and milk and 
canned fresh beef we had taken with 
us. On returning to the boat we 
found in the brief interval of our 
absence an entire change had come 
over tlie face of nature. The air 
had been sultry before and we had 
had a warm time rowing between 
the liigh clay-banks which are char- 
acteristic of the river below Sheffield. 
The wind had suddenly veered to the 
northeast an.d was cold and raw, 
mists rolled around the top of the 
Dcnne, and clouds were scudding furi- 
ously across the sky. We started at 
two o'clock, and before going a dozen 
strokes were enveloped in a scanty 
sprinkle of little rain-drops, and then 
another until the rain poured in tor- 
rents and battered the surface of the 
river into a long sheet of deep-fretted 




100 BOATING TBI PS. 

water. We protected ourselves with rubber coats and 
pulled on, and in about an liour rowed inider the road 
bridge and a railroad bridge which cross the river 
side by side. The village of Ashley Falls is about a 
mile distant from the bridges on the east bank. The 
erratic river then trends across the intervale in long 
zigzag reaches to a group of houses on the west bank. 
The wet buildings, exhibitirjg no signs of life, envel- 
oped in the melancholy haze of rain, looked dreary in 
the extreme. The reach, immediately below a bridge 
that spans the river just below the group of houses, ends 
against the rocky face of a mountain spur that turns the 
river eastward. The river again ap[ roaches the mountain 
below, however, where a rocky cliff stands guard, and 
above, a broad field of brown heath, dotted with stones, 
stretches in grim realistic fashion to the base of woods 
that crown the summit. Tlie reaches here are all longer 
and wider, and the banks, which are (^uite high, were fairly 
ablaze with brilliant autumnal color. We had often since 
leaving Housatonic pulled by an uncouth looking scow, 
lying against the bank, and here we passed a hideous 
looking: craft which had two names. " The Old Sal " was 
painted on the stern and on the side near the bow, 

"The Great Eastern, owned and navigated by ;" an 

odd vagary of fancy. About five o'clock we saw before 
us the bridge of the Hartford and Connecticut Western 
Railroad. Just above it is a short rapid. We landed 



THE HOl'SATOXIC UIVER. lOl 

at II fiiriii-house just below the bridge on the west bank 
and walked to Canaan, a ndle distant on the east side 
of the river, on the railroad. 

Canaan is a sort of Miigby Junction. The tracks of 
the Hartford and Connecticut Western and Housatonic 
Railroads intersect at right angles at a corner of the 
station. There are two hotels in the village, but, apart 
from the noise of trains, Canaan is not a remarkably lively 
place. 

We got under way Tuesday morning at nine o'clock. 
The river flows deep and tran(|uil below the bridge, until 
it has disappeared around the first bend, where we glided 
through a gently flowing rapid. We had passed a great 
many pumpkins afloat on the river from time to time 
during our morning row and the day preceding, and we 
had been tempted to use one of the grotesque, dumb yellow 
mas{|nes as a sort of jack-a-lanteru ornament to our prow. 
.Vfter a while we i)ulled under a bridge, and, as we were 
rowing along close to shore, we discovered at the edge of 
the water what at first we supposed was the sloughed off 
skin of a snake, and tlun the dead root of a tree. It 
turned out to be, however, the crumpled horns of a skele- 
ton ram's head. We at once made it fast to the bow, and 
thenceforward had a weird and imposing figure-head. 

The river flows in somewhat regular long reaches, with 
a smooth current, to Falls Village. Twice, however, at 
a stated interval, the river turns sliari)ly ahnost north- 



102 BOATING TRIPS. 

ward before resuming its southwiird sweeps. Mountains 
guard tlie valley on either hand, hut the intervale and 
near hills give evidence of careful cultivation. We were 
indeed passing through the last intervale region on the 
river. The scenery is not so strikingly beautiful as in the 
Great Barrington meadows, but the river itself is, if it 
were possible, more beautiful. At Falls Village, however, 
the mountains come close to the river, aud thereafter 
remain constant near guardians to the end ; and the river 
is, for the most part, rough and rapid, foaming with only 
brief intervals of rest through narrow mountain valleys. 

We reached Falls Village, which is the gate-way of this 
wild and lonesome region, at eleven o'clock. The descent 
of the river from Pittsfield to the State line of Connecti- 
cut is two hundred and ninety-five feet, while the descent 
from the State line to Derby is six hundred and twelve. 
The actual distance from Pittsfield to the State line is 
about one third the distance fiom Pittsfield to the moufh 
of the river ; but the river in Massachusetts, on account 
of its crooked windings, is about as long as the river in 
Connecticut. 

On account of the low stage of the water, we carried 
over the rocks (jf the upper pitch of the falls in the 
middle of the river, and then, rowing past the repaii- 
shops of the Housatonic Railroad on the west bank, we 
hauled ashore just above the railroad bridge, and let the 
boat float ahnig down to the edge of the principal fall. 



THE no USA TOXIC 111 VEIL 



103 



with a cord. The river makes a plunge here of thirty or 
forty feet, with considerable roar and blowing spray. We 
then dragged the boat over the rocks a short distance on 
the west side, and lowered it over a steep cliff to a ledge 
below, where, by means of a long cord at the bow, and 




another at the stern, we let her down to the water at one 
side of the fall. We tried to run the nipids Ix'low the 
fall, but the channel was narrow and strewn witli rocks, 
and we, therefore, concluded it was the part of discretion 
to let the boat through with a cord, while we walked 
along the east side of the princi))al channel in the middle 
of the river. Ai'riving at tin; end of our footing, we got 



104 liOAriXG TRIPS. 

into the boat and pulled to the west side of the river, 
where we used the cord once more, to get by the third 
pitch. Our operations had attracted quite a crowd on the 
bank, and an entire district school, with the teacher at the 
head, was narrowly observing every movement. My fel- 
low-voyager then took the oars, as the water w^as shallow 
and turbulent, while I walked along the west shore and 
awaited his coming under the l)ridgc at the village. 

Just above the bridge, the channel winds among rocks, 
and the oarsman, in an endeavor to escape the first one, 
got the oars out of tlie row locks, and, before he could 
replace them to pull liack, tlie boat drifted broadside on 
a rock that peered out of water immediately below, 
careened, filled ; and the water, rushing into the boat, 
washed oars, carpet-bags,- and all our provisions down 
stream. The last I saw of my car})et-bag, it was placidly 
lloating ill the middle of the river, some distance below, 
the handle just out of Avater ; and then the waves closed 
over it. The oarsman stepped on the rock when the boat 
began to fill, and, after breaking a paddle, all liis further 
efforts to keep her from sliding down still deeper proved 
unavailing, and the boat finally lodged about a foot under 
water, and the current, rushing in, held her immovably 
fast. There was nothing to do but strip and plunge in, 
and after a half-hour's manceuvering, the boat was turned 
over and edged along to another rock, l)elow, where the 
water poured against the bottom of the boat. The long 



THE HO r;S ATOXIC lUVEli. 105 

rope at the stern was then cauglit and thrown ashore, 
whereat a man pulled hard, and by half-inches at a time, 
the boat was hauled into the stream and floated over a 
shoru rapid; and after the water was bailed out I put 
back to the rescue of my fellow- voyager, who stood, to 
the utter amazement of late comers on the scene, after 
the boat had got wedged against the second rock under 
the bridge, dry shod on the upper rock in the middle of 
the river upon a rather precarious foothold. On getting 
to shore, he stripped to unmentional)les also, and by 
repeated divings rescued all our canned goods, which 
glittered in the deep Avater just below the place of the 
overturn. Then keeping on down stream with one 
rescued oar, we fished our carpet-bags out of the stream 
below, and picked up the other articles a boy had rescued 
and left on the bank, and started on down river in searcli 
of the missing oar. We eventually missed, besides tlie 
ram's head, only a few things of no great value. We 
passed through three reaches of swift water, and then 
came to a wide, open bay, where, two liours after the 
accident occurred, we found the oar imbedded in weeds. 
We had been induced, by the low stage of the water, to 
try the falls, and naturally were somewhat provoked after 
getting by the three upper pitches, which are really diffi- 
cult. — I doubt very much indeed whether they were ever 
attempted before, — to get wrecked on a c(»uple of paltiy 
rocks at the very end. It is no doubt much better to 



106 nOATIN(i TRIPS. 

land above the first pitcli on the west side at a solitary 
barn, and, indee<l, qnite necessary, I may say, as the 
water is seldom lower than when we took our trip, and 
get a team to carry you over the bridge below the lower 
pitch to the east shore, where it is an easy task to launch 
a boat in good water. 

The scenery below Falls Village, especially just above 
and below Lime Rock Bridge, is wild and grand. A 
range of mountains with a very ragged edge stretches 
away from the river on the west, while mountains cov- 
ered witli green woods slope u]) from the river on the 
east. The village of Lime Rock is a mile from the west 
end of the bridge, and, it is said, contains several fine 
residences, among others, that of the Hon. W. H. Barnum 
of State and national reputation. 

As we journeyed on we saw many brilliant sunset 
effects on the mountains along the east side of the nar- 
row valley. Now, upon a dark green slope was outlined^ 
in bright yellow sunshine, the form of one mountain ridge 
on the west side of the valley, and then again, another. 
I remember distinctly how the upper part of one long 
ridge was gilded with brilliant, almost dazzling light, wliile 
all the valley below was filled with intense, deep, sombre 
lines; and we often saw the sun rise and set over the 
sloping western ridges. The river, most of the time, 
})ours along over fretted stones ; and the scenes, as night 
closed in, were extremely wild, almost weird. The moun- 



THE nous ATOXIC nivjjjL 1()7 

tain ranges were, for tlie most part, covered with trees, 
but occasionally a mountain Inul been stripped bare, and 
tlie naked granite looked desolate and dreary in the 
extreme. We often saw a strip of bare waste girdling a 
slope where wood-choppers were still at work, and fre- 
quently, near at liand or afar off down the valley, per- 
haps close to a mountain summit, the flowing smoke of 
a charcoal pit ; and when night added brilliancy to the 
"•low of the tires that flamed here and there on the dark 
slopes, it seemed as if one were in the nddst of one of 
Grimm's tales, in a land of dragons and gnomes. 

About seven o'clock, we saw the twinkling lights of 
West Cornwall, a decided misnomer, as the village is on 
the east side of the river, and we made fast just above the 
dam. We found refuge at the Mansion House, where we 
were long occupied, both befcne and after supper, in hang- 
ino; our wet clothes on a dryer in tlie kitchen, and were 
often, 1 fear, in tlie way of two young, and pretty, and 
renuirkably lively stepping dames of tlie domain. 

Our shipwreck had opened the seams of the l)oat -con- 
siderably, and before embarking next morning, ^^■e Avere 
engaged, an 'hour or more, in filling them with cotton 
batting and putty. While at work, a man told us about 
a trip that three canoeists from Jioston had made down 
the river the previous year, and pointed out the shed in 
which they had stored their boats over night. We had 
heard of the party from the proprietor of the Berkshire 



108 



BOATIXG TEH'S. 



House at Great Barrington ; but whether they succeeded 
iu getting through, I know not, although Ave heard of 
them once afterward at New Milford. We got under way 
at ten oVdock. Just above the bridge is a low apron dam. 
AVe lauded toward the east end, and, in a few minutes, had 
lowered the boat over the dam and were bumping through 







the rapids below. We were obliged to stand up and push 
with the oars, wlien opposite the shears factory, and then 
were hurried, by the swift water, between two mountains 
that sprang from the water's edge on either side, toward a 
shalloAV rapid, which, however, we ran without difficulty. 
The scenery was quite wild and picturesque, the road 
along the west shore alone giving a hint that the place 
was in reach of civilization. 



THE HO US ATOXIC RIVER. 109 

We soon came to otlier shallow })laces, however, where 
we had hard work to get through. One great cause of 
difficulty was occasioned by fisli-ways, which were made 
up of stones heaped in a long line, usually in a diagonal 
direction from shore to shore. If we went tlirough 
tlie upper end we were (juite sure to be stuck on 
shallows; if, on the other liand, we followed the dee[)er 
water along the upper side of the way to the lower end, 
there was no opening and we had to lift the boat over 
the stones. Sometimes, however, we found an opening 
in the wall where we could shove through. The river 
was often filled with huge rocks, and in a few places the 
channel was verv narrow and the water ])Oured through 
in a rapid fall. At the worst places we turned the boat 
around and went through stern foremost. Going through 
in this way we were enabled, even where the water was 
very swift and violent, to })ull l)ack and keep the boat 
steady until we had selected the l)est course. Much of 
the time one or the other of us walked along the shore. 
We had indeed altogetlier rather a tedious forenoon 
journey, and were three hours in getting to Cornwall 
Bridge, a distance of five miles. There is (^uite a high 
Hsh-way obstruction just above the bi'idge at Corin\all 
liridge, and we had considerable trouble in getting i)ast. 
We often wished, indeed, that the river was a foot higher. 
The water, however, as if to make some compensation, 
was pure and transparent as crystal. 



110 BOATING rnips. 

Below the bridge was another long stretch of shallow 

water, where my fellow-voyager, alone in the boat, 

exercised his ingenuity to the utmost to get through. 

In the next rapid we had no difficulty, as the channel 

was comparatively narrow, and we rushed through in fine 

style. We pulled up on the east shore, where the back 

water curled around to the foot of the rapid and in a 

sheltered nook enjoyed a lunch after our long fast and 

hard labor, and were again under way at three o'clock. 

The going continued to improve, and we soon came to 

Boardman's Bridge. The road from the east end leads 

to CornAvall Bridge and the west to Sharon. Below we 

ran aground two or three times, but the river was less 

rapid and the country not quite so wild. After a while 

the river was divided into several channels by graceful 

islands, and the shadows of evening began to fall upon 

the 

•'• Many-color'd woods, 
Shade deepening over shade, the country round 
Inibrown; crowded umbrage, dusk, and dun, 
Of every hue, from wan declining green 
To sooty dark." 

And tlien again the fires of charcoal pits illuminated 
mountain slopes near and remote, and it seemed as if we 
were sailing through some vast, mysterious region of 
Avitchcraft. We still pursued our Avay in smooth water, 
however, with some confidence. By and by, we passed 
the houses of Alder City, on the Avest bank, whose lights 



THE HO US. I TOXIC li 1 1 'Eli. \\\ 

twinkled cheerfully under the black shadow of tlie Scata- 
cook Mountains, and, upon inquiry b}- hallooing, learned 
that we were two miles from Kent, our intended stopping-- 
place. Pursuing our way in the Egyptian darkness, we 
cautiously approached a huge misshapen object in our 
course, which proved to l)e a catamaran. We had before 
heard a noise like an unearthly groan, repeated at brief 
regular intervals, and could then hear the water pouring 
over the dam; so we kept along the east shore, and landed 
as close to the dam as we dared o-o. Stumbling along- the 
road, attracted by a feeling of curious horror toward the 
dreadful moaning, we saw, in front, a furnace, belching 
Hame and sparks from the chimney, and a wing of the 
building aglow with the lurid, bright glare of a casting. 
We found that the groaning was due to a water-wheel and 
wind suction pump that supplied the furnace with air. 
It was easy, indeed, for a moment, however, upon arrival, 
to imagine one's self in Hades. We left our baggage in 
charge of the foreman, and walked half a mile down the 
track to the Elmore House in Kent. 



CHAPTER TV. 

KENT. — STIIATFORD. 

^"YT'E had little opportunity to see Kent, but it had 
all the dignity of an eminently respectable New- 
England village, in the quiet air of early morning, as we 
left it still asleep on our way to the boat. We carried the 
boat around the dam on a wheelbarrow, and, relying upon 
the statement of a. workman, put the boat in the tail-race, 
and, having loaded the l)aggage, embarked ourselves. 
The race was narrow and the current swift, and the boat 
got athwart the stream under a low-lying, projecting tree 
and filled, and all tiie baggage was waslied out and got 
wet. Furthermore, after getting righted, we found that 
the race at the end expanded into shallows, — which, 
liowever, had never been the case before, — that would 
have made a carry necessary in any event; so we were 
not at all obliged to our informant. We easily rescued 
everything, however, including a can of julienne soup. 
We were continually reserving the julienne for a choice 
occasion, but after losing it in both our overturns, we 
carried it tlie length of the river, and, sad to relate, 
brought it \nnne unused. However, we finally got under 
way about ten o'clock, and soon pulled under the lu'idge 
at Kent, which will, I doubt not, be a better structure 
hereafter, as it was undeigoing repairs. 



THE HO US ATONIC BIVEB. 113 

The river banks are somewhat more open below Kent. 
On the east side, indeed, was quite a stretch of intervale. 
The reaches v/ere long and graceful, and it was very 
delightful rowing in the clear air of an autumn morning. 
The trees were flaming in gorgeous colors, the maples, 
most brilliant of all, fairly ablaze with crimson and gold. 
The shrubbery was usually very gay, and, most beantiful 
of all, the vines of various colors creeping around the 
trunks of trees. The soft haze of an Indian summer was 
on the hills, and the air was deliciously cool. We arrived 
above the upper pitch of Bull's Falls at twelve o'clock, 
and landed on the east shore Avhere we luckily, at once, 
found a team to transport us around. liulFs Falls is not 
a very large place. There is a store, one white house, and 
two or three red ones. A survey of the Housatonic was 
made last year for the purpose of determining the avail- 
ability of the river as a source from whicli to increase the 
water supply of the city of New York, and the rc[)ort 
was, I believe, favorable, and contemplated the location of 
a great reservoir at Bull's Falls. 

A friend of the writer, who, in company witli another, 
had naviofated the river in a small skiff, in the third Nwck 
of July, 1879, and unfortunately sufl'ered shipwreck at 
Lover's Leap below, said he ran the first pitch of Bull's 
Falls, though it was the worst place he jiassed through on 
the river, and added, in a list of directions which we 
found ver}^ useful, in a somewhat humorous tone: "The 



114 BOATING niirs. 

lower pitcli is truly terrific, and is best seen from the 
bridge. The river pours down a ledge to a depth so great 
that everything below seems dwarfed in the awful abyss." 
The river pours through a very narrow channel of rocks 
at an angle of about forty-five degrees, and finds rest 
before again plunging onward in a pond behind a deserted 
dam just below the bridge. We rode a mile and a half, 
and then, at a place where the road approached the river, 
launched the boat within sight of Gaylord's Bridge. We 
paid for the transportation of ourselves and boat, seventy- 
five cents. We backed the boat through a bad stretch of 
rapids under the bridge, and thence made good progress 
on our way to New Milford. A white church with a 
square tower, on a little elevation on the west side of the 
bridge, continued in view quite a long time, a prominent 
picturesque object, like a church in a picture. Wliile 
rowing along, we came upon a Hock of ducks in a cove, 
which, perha})s luckily for them and perhaps fortunately 
for us, proved to be tame, as they came within range. 

Hitherto, our course from Falls Village had been in 
a wild, rough, mountainous region. I doubt, indeed, 
whether we passed through a mile of country, in all, 
that could be considered intervale, and a cultivated field 
was about as rare as intervale. We had mountains, rocks, 
trees, and a river that every few hundred feet was a foam- 
ing rapid. There is, indeed, an almost endless series of 
unused water privileges on the Housatonic, easily capable. 



THE 110 1 'SA TOXIC L'l T ^EJL 115 

it would seem, of being iiiiprf)ved. It was, tlierefore, a 
relief to find the encircling mountains give way, and a 
broad open tract of country gradually disclosing itself 
before us as we drew near New Milford. Rounding a 
bend, we saw the houses of the village scattered over the 
side of a hill, looking, at a distance, much like a toy 
village. We were quite puzzled, for a time, to discover 
the use of several barrels painted white and apparentl)^ 
located as beacons along the river ; but, as we pulled 
ashore below the bridge, we found a small paddle-wheel 
steamer, not much larger than a row-boat, at anchor, and 
we inferred that they were planted to aid it in navigating 
the broad and placid shallows opposite the town. 

New Milford is the centre of trade for a large district, 
and it is very active and thriving. All the villages above 
are small — mere settlements ; and the nearest villages 
below, on the river, are Derby and Birmingham, which 
are twenty-eight miles distant. The predominance of 
English names in the valley of the Housatonic is very 
noticeable. We stopped at the New England House, a 
hotel where the white-haired landlord is exceediiigly jolly, 
lunch is always on the table, and the fare is excellent. 

AVe pushed off at seven o'clock next morning. The 
river was enveloped in a thick mist. We kept close to 
the east shore, and soon lieard the water pouring over a 
low dam which is, perhaps, half a mile below the bridge. 
We passed the mouth of the canal that leads to the mill, 



116 BO ATI XI ^ riifl'S. 

which we had been warned to avoid, and hmded at the 
east end of the dam and carried the boat over a conven- 
ient rocky ledge, and then, hohling her l)y the cord, let 
her float through the short rapids l)elow. While thus 
engfasred, we found a half dozen larg-e eels that had ])een 
caught in a trap at the end of a iish-way. There are so 
many flsh-ways on the river, however, that 1 should think 
the catch everywhere nuist ordinarily be small. 

Pulling under the railroad ])ridge Ijelow, where the 
Housatonic Railroad crosses the river for the last time, we 
continued on in tlie middle of the stream. The reaches 
were wide and long, and the trees on either side loomed 
vaguely through the dissolving mist, like gigantic ghosts. 
We had been approaching a mountain range directly in 
our path, and after about an hour's pull, we saw before us 
the dreaded Lover's Lea|) where the river makes its way 
through a wild gorge. On the right bank, just above, is 
the mouth of the Danbury lliver, crossed by a brown 
bridge. There is a fall of twelve or fifteen feet in the 
Housatonic just above the gorge, and a bridge crosses the 
river, just below tlie fall, at the entrance of the chasm. 
Between the fall in the middle of the river and the east 
end of the bridge is a ledge of rocks, and between thi.s 
ledge and the shore is the narrow cliannel of a fish-way. 
We had come to consider Lover's Leap as the critical 
point of our voyage, for the friend who had supplied us 
with directions had been compelled to al)aiidon his trip at 



THE IK) US ATOXIC HI VEIL 



117 



this point, and he said : " I cannot exaggerate the difficnl- 
ties of Lover's Leap. The boat cannot be taken ont of 
the stream, for the banks are enormously high and steep 
Avhere the}' are not mere cliffs. Furthermore, tliere is 



^^. -* 




no road over the mountain, and you will see that it is too 
high to take a boat over. The iish-way runs between two 
flat ledges, from one of which rises the cliif ; the other is 
out in the stream, and cannot l)e readied. The only way 
to reach the one next to shore is to climb tht; bank where 



118 BOATiya TRIPS. 

the bare rock begins. 1 tried to go along tlie base of the 
cliff, and narrowly escaped drowning. I then climbed 
down the bare cliff to the ledge, no easj' or safe job.'' 
The river must have been very high at the time he 
attempted to get through. He said, indeed, that "the 
water foamed in the fish-way as if it would pull the ring 
and staple out of the boat." The friend who was with him 
undertook to lower the boat with the painter through the 
fish-way from above, so that he could reach her, standing 
on the ledge below. The rope unluckily proved too short, 
and the boat rushed by and was swamped on a huge 
boulder at the end of the way. He added : "• Down the 
gorge all is plain ; but at the lower end are ominous 
breakers, of which 1 know nothing, and they might drown 
you, i'.fter all, for all I can tell." We landed on the outer 
ledge and found the fish-way merely a trickling rill. We 
made a fire in a very convenient cavity on the outer ledge 
and had the standard repast of the camper-out, beefsteak, 
roasted potatoes, and coffee. While breakfasting, we 
glanced, from time to time, down through the gorge 
where we could see the " ominous breakers " at the end, 
and get a glimpse of the country beyond, too, like a haven 
of rest, open, peaceful, and smiling. 

We lowered the boat over the rocks beside the fall 
without any trouble, and, embarking just below, passed 
under the bridge which crosses the river high in air, and 
entered the Ausable-like chasm. It is, indeed, a wild and 



TUK no USA TO \i (J 111 vi-:r. 119 

lonesome place, full of ruyged beauty. The river is, how- 
ever, comparatively smooth, exce[)t that there are two 
rapids at the very end of the gorge. We might easily 
have run the first, but instead, lowered the boat thnmgh 
on the west side with the cord. The other rapid we 
avoided by guiding the boat through shallow channels on 
the east side. As you emerge from the chasm, cliffs tower 
abruptly from the water at each side. The rugged clift 
on the west side is covered with a. scanty growth of trees, 
while the other is a bare, rocky steep, crowned with a 
dead pine, which enhances its desolate appearance. The 
river below spreads out in quite a wide basin called the 
Cove. The view of the Leap given is from tlie lower 
end, looking north. 

We had supposed that, below the gorge, we should 
have smooth, deep water and level cduntrv. We found, 
however, instead, that the liver was rapid and stormy, and 
ran through a valley, between mountains, amid scenery 
(|uite as wild and grand as above New Milford. We 
occasionally came across a troublesome shallow place, 
and often the inevitable lish-way, where we invariably 
had an interchange of opinion as to the best course to 
take. The going was very good, however, for the most 
[)art. After rowing nearl}^ three hours, we saw a board 
nailed to a tree at the edge of a thick woods on the west 
bank, and, di'awing near, I'ound that it was a memorial, 
marking the place where a young man had been found 



120 jioATixa Tin PS. 

dead. Not far below, we pulled up ou the west .shore 
where a brook trickled into tlie river at the edge of a 
gravelly point, and had our mid-da}^ luncli. Immediately 
below tlie point is a shallow fall, and tlien a bridge. 
Ivowing on, we came, in a little less than an hour, to the 
bridge of the Shepaug Railroad, which crosses the stream 
at a lonely place. We passed througli a long stretch of 
rapids above and below the bridge, and then pulling 
around a very pretty bend bordered along tlie west side 
wdth trees, we came to a low dam which we passed at tlie 
west end. Then followed swift currents and rapids. 
The river, by and by, made a sharp turn eastward, run- 
ning on the lower side along a finely curving wooded 
slope. Tlie river continued to follow the spur of the 
mountain until it seemed to flow almost north, and then 
debouched into a small, open valley, a })lace quite as beau- 
tiful as any we saw on the trip. The river, as if relieved 
after its continual fretting over rocks, murmurs pure and 
limpid over a gravelly bed in a charming little intervale, 
while two large, white, comfortable looking houses on the 
north shore attest an appreciation of tlie charms of the 
little valley. At the end of the reach below, just :'.bove 
an island, is a ford where we saw a horse drawing a 
wagon and splashing, with slow contentment, through 
the shallow water. At the extreme end of the same 
reach is the truss l)ridge of the New York and New 
England Railroad, which, perched on lofty stone piers. 



THE HOUSATOXW lilVEIl. 121 

Spans the river like an aerial spider's web. The river 
])el(>\v flows rapidly around a perfectly curving wooded 
bank. A few minutes after six o'clock, we came to 
Bennett's Bridge, where an island divides the river and 
bridge. We pulled under the eastern section and, land- 
ing on the gravel shore below, found shelter at the board- 
ing-house of H. M. Post. 

We started next morning at seven o'clock, and found 
the river about as usual, only the reaches were longer 
and l)r()a(ler, and the distance from rapid to rapid a little 
farther, while mountains still bordered the narrow valley 
on every side. We also got stuck two or three times in 
shalhnv places. We reached Zoar's Bridge, where a very 
handsome chain suspension bridge spans the river, about 
ten o'clock. Then, after passing through several rapids 
wJiere the full current ran delightfully swift in narrow 
chainiels, we came to tiie head of a long pond formed by 
the Derby-Birmingham dam which sets the water back 
between six and seven miles. Here we encountered a 
violent southwest wind, and were glad to keep under 
the lee of mountains wherever they afforded i)rotection. 
The scenerv about the pond is essentially the same as 
along the river, embracing principally mountains, woods, 
and water. There is, however, some cultivated land, and 
a few liouses are scattered along the shores. The pond is 
comi)aratively narrow, gradually widening, however, as 
you approach the end: and, as we rounded the last bend. 



122 BOATING TRIPS. 

a magnificent broad expanse of water stretched before us 
to the dam. Beyond the gate-liouse on the west side rises 
the tall brick tower of the Derby mills, and a few scatter- 
ing houses are visible on the high ground on both sides 
below. There is a lock at the gate-house, but the keeper 
was not at hand and we had no time to hunt him up, 
so we pulled to the east end of the dam and tliere made a 
portage. A wide, deep, unused canal leads off from the 
east end of the dam, over which we carried the boat on a 
narrow stone walk on the east side of the gate-house. 

The dam is a very imposing structure of stone, twenty- 
two feet high, with the lower face nearly perpendicular. 
It is six hundred and thirty-seven feet long, in the form 
of a curve, which is fifty feet deep, with the concave side 
facing down stream. In a history of Derb}^ I find a state- 
ment that the trembling sound of the water pouring over 
the dam, when the river is full, has been observed in the 
upper part of the city of New Haven, a distance, in a 
direct line, of over eight miles. There is a lock on the 
west l^ank, just above the Derby mills, between the canal 
and river. The bank below is lined with mills to the 
bridge, while on the east side below the bridge are the 
factories and houses of Birmingham, which is located on 
a tongue of land between the Housatonic and Naugatuck 
Rivers. The river forms (juite a basin immediately below 
the bridge, and several schooners, at wharves, and a 
sharpy, darting here and there, warned us of our 
approach to the sea. 



THE 110 USA TOXIC HI VEIL 128 

We began our last pull on the river about two o'clock. 
We kept close to the west shore, under the shelter of 
mountainous wooded slopes, whenever it was possible^ 
to avoid, as far as we could, the wind, whi(;h was fiercely 
blowing. The tide, luckily, was with us. Still our progress 
was slow. The river is several liundred feet wide, and the 
reaches very picturesque. The shore was rocky and wooded 
almost all the way to Stratford. We occasionally pulled b>- 
a little beach ensconced between rocks, and sometimes an 
open space wherein a house was prettily located. A fence 
projecting into the stream often compelled us to make 
a brief detour, and by and by we passed little fleets of 
moored dories, and huge reels in sheltered coves, and 
many a fine camping place, of which, liowever, there had 
been no lack all along the river. Tliere were marshes 
here and there, and yet, although we were so near tlie 
sea, and the tide was miming strong, the wate-r was fresh. 
Late in the afternoon we saw a long way oft' doAMi river, 
over a wide expanse of water beyond a marsh, the high 
crossed framework of a long bridge outlined against the 
sky, and the spires of Stratford. The banks were dark 
and soml)re, the water in the channel a raging mass of 
white caps, while heavy clouds rent and torn by the 
furious wind were scudding along above, lighted with the 
gorgeous and continually changing hues of a brilliant 
sunset, the entire scene resembling very much a sullen 
and angry Turner. 



124 BOATING TRIPS. 

We pulled under the truss bridge of the New York and 
New Haven Railroad about six o'clock. We continued 
on, however, to the Washington toll-bridge just below, 
on the old post route from Boston to New York, which, 
it is said, derives its name from tlie fact that Washington 
marched over it when on his way to New York after the 
British evacuated Boston. There is a hotel at the east 
end of the bridge. The river below the toll-bridge flows 
past the Lower Dock at Stratford, as it is called, and then 
a mile furtlier in a magnificent wide, semi-circular sweep 
between level marshes to tlie sea. The mouth of the river 
is guarded on the eastern side by Milford Point, where 
there is a hotel, and on the west by a light-house. The 
town of Milford is on the east bank, but the village is 
tlu^ee miles from the bridge. Stratford is on the west 
side, about a mile from the river. It is a large old- 
fashioned village with wide, rambling, well-shaded streets. 
Many of the houses are covered with long, wide shingles, 
and the windows are filled with the small panes of glass 
anciently in vogue. There is no factory in the village 
and no hotel. It is, therefore, as one would naturally 
suppose, a very quiet place, and it has a quaint and 
extremely conservative air, which the modern houses 
cannot dispel. Bridgeport is three miles west of Stratford, 
and New Haven thirteen miles east. 

We were seven days in all in descending the river, 
which may be considered the utmost limit of time 



THE 110 USA TONIC lU VEll. 125 

necessiiiy, as the water was almost uiiprecedentedly low 
and the days short. The invigorating autumn air, how- 
ever, enabled us to sustain the burden of rowing, which 
some one has characterized as the easiest kind of hard 
work, — as it surely is for one accustomed to it, though 
a most grievous task to a novice, — with an effective stroke 
from morning until night. The friend who supplit'd us 
with directions, upon hearing an account of our trip 
wrote : " I did not suppose we had such very high water, 
and it could not have been very high in July either. I 
am sure that letting down over the great falls at Falls 
Village would have been about as practicable for us as 
letting down by Niagara. We were less than three 
(|uarters of au hour in going from West (Cornwall to 
Cornwall Bridge, where you seem to have had so much 
trouble. We rushed right along, bow on, as I never 
rushed on any stream before. At Lover's Leap the tisli- 
way was a roaring torrent, and the waves at the end were 
ti'emendous curlers. With the same stage of water I do 
not believe that it would be safe to undertake to go 
through." 

I should advise any one in boating on the Housatonic 
not to be in a hurry, if possible to avoid it. It is a beau- 
tiful stream from beginning to end. Whoever descends 
it, indeed, in whatever way, will undoubtedly retain in 
memory unfading visions of scenes of rare beauty, which 
lie will nevertheless unhappily find as impossible to 



126 BOATING TRIPS. 

describe as the charms of a perfect poem or a i)erfe('t 
picture. 

A single word of caution : Be sure you know how to 
handle oars in wild water before embarking on the mad 
Housatonic. 



THE NASHUA RIVER. 



CHAPTER I. 

WEST B< )YLSTON. — LANCASTER. 

•' Where tliroui>h the calm repose 
Of cultured vales and tiini;ing woods the gentle Nashua flows."" 

WlIITTIEU. 

A T the end of the trip on the Housatonic J had the 
-^-^ boat sent as freight to West Boylston on the South 
Branch of the Nashua, in Worcester County, and in Julv 
of the foUowino- year took tlie three o'ch)ck train from 
Boston on the Boston and Albany Raih'oad, with a friend 
of ])revions ex[)erience in river travel, to make a voyage 
in lier down the Nashua. At Worcester, after a ver}' 
convenient interval of forty minutes between trains, 
which we im[)roved by making additions to our store of 
su})plies, we took the live ()\-lo(;k ti-ain on the Worcester 
and Nashua Railroad. 

After a short ride of twenty-four minutes we landed 
at West Boylston, and, without (hslay, obtained of tlie 
station-agent the bill of fi'eight for the boat, which 
amounted to six dollars and lifty-live cents. 'Hu' charge 
of the New York, New Haven, and Hartford Railroad from 
Stratford to Springfield, a distance of seventy-five miles, 
was one dollar and seventy-five cents; that of the Boston 
and Albany for transporting her from Springfield to 



130 BOATING TRIPS. 

Worcester, fifty-six miles, tliree dollars and twenty cents, 
while the charge of the Worcester and Nashua for nine 
miles was one dollar and sixty cents. 

The boat weighed only about one hundred and fifty 
pounds, but was rated by the first road as weighing seven 
hundred. The Boston and Albany, however, was much 
]nore generous and had rated her as weighing two thou- 
sand pounds. The rate for a boat on the printed tariff 
of the Worcester and Nashua Railroad is fifteen hundred 
pounds, but the Worcester and Nashua in a magnanimous 
spirit lost sight of its own rating and adopted, by some 
strange preference, that of the Boston and Albany instead 
of the somewhat more reasonable fiction of the New York, 
New Haven, and Hartford. 

Having briefly called the attention of the agent to the 
somewhat remarkable varial)ility of rates for such an 
apparenth* extraordinary article of carriage as our boat, 
we discovered, upon lowering her from a long enforced 
retirement on rafters in the loft of the freight-house, and 
brinoiuQ- her to the light of dav, that she had been badlv 
damaged in transportation. There was a yawning crevice 
nearly seven feet long on one side close to the bottom. 
The seams were of course all open, but we had foreseen 
that tliey probably would be, and had provided ourselves 
with means to make them tight. It was necessary, how- 
ever, to procure a skilful workman to repair the injury, 
and, upon iiKjuiry, we ^yere directed to the wheelwi'iglit. 



THE X AS III' A UIVEli. 



131 



Mr. Goseliii. We carried the boat with our baggage on 
a wheelbarrow, with alternate reliefs in wheeling, down 
a pretty steep road from the depot, and across the level 
of a narrow valley to Goselin's shop, which is on the bank 




of the river. Goselin examined tlie Ijreak carefully, and 
then with a calm, judicial air that was eminently reassur- 
ing said he could repair it on the morrow. 

Just beyond Goselin's a handsome stone bridge with 
stone parapets spans the Nashua, and oidy a few steps 



132 boatix(t trips. 

away is an ordinary wooden one over a canal. Immedi- 
ately beyond the canal is a small, unpretentious hotel, 
which, however, unluckily, happened to be closed ; and, 
as it is the only one in town, we were compelled to seek 
quarters for the night at a remote private house, — wliile 
farther on, past a row of buildings, in front of whicli is 
a park, tliat might, perhaps, be considered extensive in 
Lilliput, at the end of tlie road, is an old, two-storied, 
double-gabled, red brick building, under a steep hillside, 
in the longest block of buildings in town. 

The view southward from the lower village is exceed- 
ingly beautiful. The intervale stretches away in broad 
and fertile meadows of rich, dark green, l)ordered on the 
west by a wooded bank, broken, at a distance, by a pro- 
jecting headland of bare earth, to a line of high curving 
hills a couple of miles distant, where a white church-spire 
gives relief to thickly-wooded slopes. The river flows in 
graceful curves over the broad expanse, its course marked 
here and there by a bordering of trees, while at the 
extreme end oi the vale, where the liills crowd together, 
hangs a high red bridge. The canal runs along the 
easterly side of the intervale, and half a mile away, at the 
end of a wooded Ijank, close under a liill, stands, entirely 
by itself, in a grand sort of way, the large brick building 
of the Clarendon Mills. There is a bridge at the upper 
village, which is perhaps a third of a mile above the stone 
bridge, and just below it is the dam of Holbrook's Mill. 



riiE XAsiiiA jnvEi:. 



133 



It would be easy to cany a boat by the dam, and in 
taking a trip on the river it woukl be well to begin at 
least as high up as Oakdale, tlie next station above West 
Boylston, on the Worcester and Nashua Railroad, Avhere 
the Quinepoxet River from Holden and the Stillwater 
from Sterling, unite to form the South Branch of the 
Nashua; and, generally, the higher up a river one can 







begin in boating, provided only it is navigable, the 
better. 

Furthermore, since taking this trip the Massachusetts 
Central Railroad has been completed to Oakdale, and 
furnishes the most direct route thither from Boston. Th(! 
station at West Boylston is alongside the canal. 

The high ground between the upper and lower villages 
at West Bo^'lston commands, at most })oints, a fine view 
of the broad intervale below; the river, lying deep and 



134 BOATIXa TBIPS. 

(juiet like a narrow pond betAveeii i)icturesque banks, 
while the sliapely peak of Wachusett stands forth promi- 
nently in the north, only a few miles distant, and adds 
a mountainous flavor to the gentle beauty of all the rural 
landscape round. The view from the summit of Mount 
Wachusett, which is easily accessible, is one of the finest, 
in extent and variety, of any in Massachusetts. 

Early in the afternoon of next day, the boat was ready, 
so, after preparing and eating lunch in the blacksmith 
shop which adjoins Monsieur Goselin's establishment, we 
put her in the canal, as the river itself, on account of the 
large volume of water drawn off through the canal, was, 
as we had ascertained, too shallow in many places for 
navigation. In spite of repairs and caulking, the boat 
leaked pretty badly at first; but we loaded the baggage 
and cast (^ff about tlu'ee o'clock. The canal is wide 
enough to row in, and there is a good current. We soon 
came, however, to a l)ridge so close to the water that we 
could not i)ass under it, and we therefore made a portage 
over it. 

The canal then opened into a small })ond, bordered on 
the left with a shady road lined with oblong, box-like 
l)oarding-liouses. As we [)ulled down the pond we had 
a fine view, from its high level, of the intervale opposite 
and below. 

We landed on the embankment at the foot of the pond, 
and carried the boat over a grassy slope l)etween the 



THE X A SHU A lUVEH. 



135 



buildings of tlie Cluieiidon Mills and the eiinal, and put 
lier into the race-way just below, and \n a few nunutes 
were going- at a lively rate in a. very swift current 
between banks of uniform hight, marked alternately with 
greenery and patches of gravel. 







After a while, however, we came to a barrier in the 
shape of a log, which f(jr a few minutes looked lr()ul)l('- 
some. My friend, however, got out and, without mucli 
difficulty, lifted one end of the log, and the boat glided 
under without any distuibaiicc; to the baggage, which was 



136 BOATING TEH'S. 

heaped ii[» in quite a inountaiiKtus pile in the bow. 
Shortly below, swiftly going ^vitli the rushing current, 
we came to another bridge so low that we coukl not pass 
it, and we were again compelled to make a carry, which, 
however, we ([uickly accomplished. 

The canal thereafter assumed much more the appear- 
ance of a river as it llowed, with fre(^uent turns, rapidly 
between Iom', open banks, often bordered on l)oth sides 
with a thick network of bushes. After a delightful sail of 
about two miles in all, in the canal, the boat drifting stern 
foremost all the while and the (jars only used to keep the 
course, we emerged into the river, narrow, deep, swift- 
flowing, and l)ordered with trees. 

We sought here to get a glini})se of the Red Bridge 
which hangs so high in gracefnl suspense, in the view 
from the head of iho intervale at West lioylston, but could 
discover no trace of it, and its later whereabouts remaincfl 
a mystery of the voyage. We soon passed a. high sand- 
bank on the left, and then, after a few windings, glided 
through refresliing, cool shadows, under Carr's Bridge, a;i 
ancient, A\^eather-stained structure of quaint gracefulness, 
made still more attractive by the beauty of its sluKh'iJ 
approaches. The road south leads to Boylston Centre. 

Below, tlie river was bordered on the right by a stee[i, 
woody bank, while opposite were open fields. By and 1)\' 
we passed gravel embankments of the Massachusetts 
Central Railroad on the right, and after a while 2)ulled 



THE XASIIUA ItlVER. 



10 ■ 
O 



between piles upon which tlie lailrcnid is carried over the 
river, and entered the [)ond above Sawyer's Mill. 

We pulled under a bridge near the end of the pond, 
and landed at the left of the dam just below. We found, 
however, that, upon this occasion at anj* rate, it would be 




^^^'^^yhidli 



easier to get (jver the dam on the right-hand side, as water 
was not pouring over the dam and there is ({uite a high 
ledge of rocks below the dam on that side. It took us 
on]}' a few minutes indeed to lower the boat into the 
river below the dam, and, having reloaded the baggage, 
we made rapid progress down stream. The Nashua 
indeed flows very swiftly here, wandering in a charming, 



138 BOATIXa TIUPS. 

vagrant fasliioii hither and thither over the level of quite 
an extensive valley, dashing at frequent intervals over 
beds of gravel and making music as it goes. It was past 
six o'clock, and we talked of halting to pitch the tent, 
but, tempted by the pleasant windings of the swift-flow- 
ing stream, we continued on and neglectfully passed one 
good camping ground after another. 

While shooting through a rapid at a lively pace we came 
near being impaled on a barl)ed wire stretched across the 
stream. There was (juite a numl)er of such wires at 
various points along the river, and they constitute the 
only source of danger I know of on the "gentle" 
Nashua. 

After a while the sliallow rapids came to a sudden end, 
and we entered t]ie head of the long pond above Clinton. 
We soon pulled under a l)iidge and past a primitive steam- 
boat landing below, and then l)egan to look out in earnest 
for the night's resting-place, but for a long time without 
discovering a hjcation in any Avay desirable. We finally 
got into the Ijroad pond and at last halted on the left 
shore, and pitched our tent in the woods on the level of 
the bank above, and while regretting opportunities for 
camping neglected above the head of the pond, con- 
gratulated ourselves as darkness set in that we had found 
a place not quite so bad as we had just before come to 
believe would have to be our refuge. Before going to 
sleep Ave could plainly hear conversation and the noise of 



THE NASHUA JUVJ-JL'. 139 

wagons on the liigli-road on the opposite side of the })ond, 
and during" the night were startled at times into halt- 
conscious wakefulness by the intermittent tread of some 
creature near the tent. 

We got under way about nine o'clock Wednesday. 
After a short pull between the high banks near the foot 
of the pond, which diminishes in width toward the end. 
we landed on the sloping edge of the dam, as water was 
not pouring over it. The dam, which is just below a 
bridge, is of stone, not wide, but upwards of twenty feet 
high. There is no opportuinty to get l)y the dam on 
either side; it was also (|uite impossible to lower the boat 
down its perpendicular face, and we had no inducement to 
attempt it, as the bed of the stream beloAv was completely 
dry ; so we pulled back past a propeller and two or tliiee 
sail-lxnits moored in a grou[) and landed on the north 
sliore near a wharf, and then had to walk up the long hill 
to the village before we could liml a team to carry us 
around. We drove past the Lancaster Mills, — and out of 
the long array of buildings came an infernal clatter, — ^ 
and then along a very line level road, which at one point 
runs close to the river. We might liave hiunched the 
boat here on the brimming Hood, but tlie teamster advised 
us that there was another dam only a (j^uarter of a mile 
below, so we continued on, and in a few minutes drove 
across the road l)elow it, and then shot the boat down 
a sloping bank, lined with great trees, into the river. 



140 BOATING TBIPS. 

After embarking, it seemed to us, as we looked up stream 
under the bridge, as if it would not be at all difficult to 
get by the second dam, which is so low, indeed, that I 
believe we might have floated the boat over it. We had 
made considerable saving in time, however, by the long- 
carry, which cost for ourselves, l)oat, and baggage, about 
a half mile in all, seveuty-tive cents. A rapid current 
bore us swiftly on in an open intervale with high hills at 
a little distance on alm(^)st every side. The houses of 
C'linton were scattered over the more remote western 
slopes, with here and there a window glittering in the 
rays of the sun, and all tremulous in the heat, looking so 
hot and uncomfortable that we were glad to turn to the 
swift movement of the coolly flowing river. The current 
after a little while, however, subsided in the still water of 
a pond. We sup})Osed at the time that the North Branch 
of the Nashua liere joined the one on which we were 
sailing, and we looked doubtfully from time to time into 
the numerous green recesses in which the pond abounded. 
Fortunately, however, we kept rightly on our way to the 
foot of it where there is a bridge, with a grist-mill, a 
homely, old-fashioned building which outwardly gives 
indication of its use, on one side, while on the right, 
opposite, is a hill of graceful slope, marked by a great 
elm and crowned by a farm-house. There is no village in 
sight, but the place, I believe, goes by tlie name of South 
Lancaster. We made a portage, whieli was very easy, to 



THE XASIIVA J i' I VEIL 



141 



the right of the bridge, to avoid the dam, wliich is beneath 
it. Tlie dam is not very Idgh, bn.t tlie edge is lined at 
brief intervals with stakes, which divide the fall of water 
in a very pretty way into innumerable glass-like portions. 




We lowered the boat over a little ledge of rocks below 
the fall, and, while l)acking lier down stream, had our 
attention attracted to a man on tlie bridge, who was 
wildly gesticulating, as his voice was useless in ex[)lana- 
tion, on account of the noise of the water. We (juickly 
concluded, however, as we were hurrying along in the 
swift water, and keeping a sharp lookout for (Uir course, 



142 BOATING TRIPS. 

that he was trying to tell us about danger on the river, 
of which we had no fear, and we, therefore, gave him l)ut 
momentary heed. In a few minutes, we pulled through 
an arch, under a lofty embankment of the Lancaster 
Railroad. The road was designed to give Lancaster 
direct commiuiication Avith Boston ; and was completed 
to Hudson, l)ut never used- It is now, however, I under- 
stand, operated as a branch of tlie Old Colony, which is 
thus considerably estray, as it Avere, from Cape Cod and 
Pljnnouth County. 

The Nashua then flowed mostly with a swift current, 
witli many a crook and turn over the wide level of a 
fertile valley. The river now glided gently between 
turfy banks, and, again, rippled along with soft murmurs ; 
or, descending a bed of gravel, '■'made music on its 
pebbled rim." Here and there was a tree or a clump of 
bushes, while tlie hills Avhicli l)ordered the valle}^ were 
silent in a motionless, sleepy haze. 

Just above Atherton Bridge, the novel spectacle of a 
boat on the river, attracted and held the undivided atten- 
tion of a man and two boys who were sifting gravel on 
tlje bank. They gazed with such friendly, sympathetic 
interest, until we were lost to sig'ht, that I wish we mio-ht 
have taken them in. Below the bridge, we came upon 
an artist on the left l)ank, under a white cotton umbrella, 
painting, perhaps a group of cattle at the water's briidv, 
or some noble trees, or the rich expanse of the broad 
and luxuriaid Lancaster intervale bev(»nd. 



THE XASIIUA HIVE J!. 143 

The river quickl}' sent us on our way as it rushed from 
bank to bank, and in a fe\v minutes Me were hurried 
down a swift rajud to the mouth of the Nortli Branch of 
the Nashua, a tranquil, dignified stream that seemed Hke 
a reproof to cheek tlie other's boisterous How. Pulling 
out from the current, wt landed at the edge of the ri[)})le 
on a sand beach, at the point of junction, a very delight- 
ful spot. Just in front, looking down stream, is tlie (\'U- 
tre Bridge, which spans the united rivers, while in the 
rear, between the two branches, stretches a lordly field of 
more than two hundred acres, bordered on the north by a 
Avooded slope, and marked in the middle by a gigantic 
oak. The banks of the livers are lined with trees, which 
congregate in a little assembly at the pt>int. We pitclu'd 
the tent here, near the smoothly flowing, dark -brown 
water of the North Branch. A little distance above was 
the bridge of the Worcester and Nashua liailroad ; an<l 
beyond the easterly end, we caught a glimpse here and 
there, amid banks of foliage, of the houses of Lancaster. 

it was })ast noon, and we began to make })re})arations 
for lunch, when we discovered that our can of milk was 
missing, and then, alas! somewhat too late, we knew the 
meaning of the rude pantomime by the nuin on the bridge 
at South Lancaster, lie had endeavored to warn us that 
we had left it on tlie bank. Tt was idle to think of row- 
ing back up the swift stream, so we returned by way of 
the railroad, under the hottest ()f Julv suns, and, bickilv. 



144 BOAiiXG rnrps. 

found the can in tlie cleft of a itjck, a little to one side 
the place of our embarkation, still in plain sight from 
both road and river. The Nashua is, however, I believe, 
the Lethe of New England rivers. We were often, 
indeed, lulled into a state of forgetfulness, in following its 
mazy windings. At the outset, we forgot a. pipe, then the 
ridge-pole and supports of the tent, and at Lancaster left 
the hatchet. 

Late in the afternoon, we pulled \\\) the North Branch. 
We rowed under the i-ailroad bridge and tlie Sprague 
Bridge just above, and then toiled through a stretch of 
rapids. We pulled up half a mile perhaps in all, and 
then turning about, glided swiftly through one rapid 
after another, with only an occasional stroke, hardly 
necessary, save to give direction, where thirty or forty 
hard strokes had barely sufficed to carry us laboriously 
u]). We landed at the Sprague Bridge, and, after 
rambling through the village, returned to our camp at 
the junction. 

The North Branch of the Nashua is, as maps indicate, 
a very tortuous stream. I have little doubt, however, 
that, with a light boat, and no disinclination to an 
occasional "easy," by wading wliere the ra[)ids are shallow 
as well as swift, one could go up as far as Leominster, 
which is eight miles aI)ove Lancaster, and, perhaps, to 
Fitchburg. Tt is, however, I have no doubt, easily navi- 
gable in descent, from either place, by skiff or canoe. 



THE NASHUA RIVER. 145 

We rowed up tlu; Nortli Branch again, in the evening, 
and landed at the foot of a hme, immediately below the 
railroad bridge. Returning late from the village, we 
had to grope our way cautiously through the lane, which 
was very dark ; and the river Avas so black that we could 
not see a boat's length in any direction. The voyage to 
camp was, indeed, throughout, a nocturne of shadows. 



CHAPTER II. 

LANCASTER. GKOTON. 

"T'YT'E Avere awakened Thursday morning by the sound 
of great rain -drops heavily pattering on our 
canvas covering, and were compelled to lie a long time on 
our beds of hay, in which was mingled much odt)rous 
sweet-fern, listening to the music -of the storm. The 
lightning was incessant and vivid, and crash after crash 
of thunder broke through the sky. It seemed, indeed, as 
if the ghostlike mythicals whom local tradition says make 
thunder among the Catskills by bowling ten-pins during 
a shower, had transferred the scene of their sport, and 
were bowling a constant succession of strikes above Lan- 
caster. We did not get wet in the least, however, and 
after a while the thunder rolled grumbling away in the 
distance, the sun shone brightly, and birds everywhere 
filled the air with the melody of their delayed matins. 
Camp duties were performed by the middle of the 
morning, and then once more, and for the last time, wo 
pulled up the North Branch to the village. At the landing 
at the foot of the lane we had talk with a man who, in a, 
communicative humor, told us something of his life. He 
had been a sailor in his yt)uth, and had voyaged over 
nearlv all the oceans of the wt)rld ; l)ut now, in middle 



Tilt: XASJICA III VEIL 147 

age, had found a snug harbor in tlie rural (luietude of 
Lancaster. We had ah-eady l)efore, strangely enough, 3'et 
naturally, too, perhaps, in accordance with a law that 
seems to group incidents of a similar kind in life in close 
sequence, met, in the course of our brief excursion, a 
reminiscence of the sea, a sailor lad on the train from 
Boston, who wore the cap of the Powhattan. He was 
a mere boy. but said he had been away cruising the past 
nine years. He had written to his parents oidy once 
during all this time, and had not heard from them at all. 
With sailor-like unconcern, however, he was then on his 
way to Springtield, on a three days' leave of absence, to 
ascertain whether his home was still unbroken. I should 
not 1)6 at all surprised if he, too, sometime in the future, 
found a retreat somewhere along the "gentle" Nashua. 

The principal part of Lancaster lies upon the westerly 
slope of a ridge that extends in a northerly direction from 
the Nortli Branch of the Nashua, and affords a fine view 
(jf the river-basin and esi^ecially the broad, gently sloping 
hillsides beyond. Upon the l)ack of the ridge, along its 
highest elevation, which also commands a wi(h^ view of 
the valley east, are the sclioolhouse, Town Hall, Memorial 
Hall, a church, and a large hotel, all of substantial brick. 
The town library, a large and well-appointed institution, 
second oidy in size and e(|uipment, I think, to the Concord 
library, is in a very handsome octagonal room in Memorial 
Hall. Most other towns have, during the past thirty 



148 BOATING Till PS. 

3^ears, felt the impulse oi the inarch of modern times, 
and now tlirob with new industries and teem with alien 
population ; but Lancaster preserves, in a marked degree, 
the traditional character of the old New-England village, 
and seems likely to for many a year to come. A singu- 
larly beautiful rural landscape, which, soon after the land- 
ing of the Pilgrims brought the first settk'rs to the town, 
still remains its greatest attraction. 

Lancaster is indeed the oldest town in Worcester 
County. It was settled in 1645, and incorporated in 1653. 
It was for many years the most advanced post of the 
Pilgrim ('olony. The inhabitants, however, lived on 
amicable terms with the Indians, and the settlement 
thrived continuously until the ontbreak of King Philip's 
War. On August 22, 1675, eight persons were killed by 
the Indians, and the tenth of Februar}- following, several 
tribes, led by Philip himself, -made a desperate attack 
upon the town, in five different places at once, in which 
more than fifty were killed or taken prisoners. Six weeks 
afterward all the houses but two were destroyed, the town 
was deserted, and Lancaster remained without an inhab- 
itant for more than three years. The inhal)itants then 
began to return, and were not molested in the resettle- 
ment of the town until after King William's accession to 
the throne of England, which occasioned a new series 
of hostilities, in which the Indians were encouraged and 
aided by the French as allies. They made an assault in 



THE XASlllA 1,'IVKR. 149 

July. 1602, and renewed their attiieks at various intervals 
from lime to time, down to August 5, 1710, when, as an 
ancient chronicler says, the last mischief was done. 

At the time of the assault, in February, 1676, the wife 
of the minister was taken captive by the Indians, and 
remained among them several weeks before she was 
ransomed. Soon after her release she wrote an account 
of the attack upon the town and her experience amon*;' 
the Indians, which was published in a little book entitled 
Narrative of the Captivity and Removes of Mary Row- 
landson. It is written in quaint language in graphic style 
and contains a strange admixture of events most pathetic, 
and incidents most ludicrous, despite their tragic, rueful 
aspect. The sentences for the most part, however, fairly 
roll and groan under the burden of her terrible story. 
The narrative, brief as it is, nevertheless throws a great 
deal of light on the character, traits, mode of life, and 
manners of the Indians, and may indeed wisel}' be read as 
a very effective antidote to the romanticism of Cooper. 

A History of Lancaster was written by the Rev. A. P. 
Marvin, and published by the town in 1879. It is a ver}^ 
interesting account of the early settlement and ])rogress 
of the town, and contains many illustrations and ma])s. 

^Vfter a while we returned to the junction again, broke 
camp, and were soon under way once more. We pulled 
into the ripple swiftl}' flowing out of the South Branch, 
and quickly shot under the Centre Bridge, which spans the 



150 BOATING riilFS. 

Nashua. The Centre Bridge, one hundred and seventy- 
three feet h)ng, is an iron structure, in suspense from 
bank to bank, light, graceful, and commodious. The 
Sprague Bridge over the North Branch, which, in old 
deeds, was called the North River, is one hundred and 
forty feet in length ; while the Atherton Bridge over the 
South Branch is ninety. 

The main river was called Pennacook by the Indians. 
The Indian name was retained for a while by the early 
settlers, according to Marvin's History, and the river is 
indeed thus designated on the oldest maps. The present 
name, Nashua, is a corruption of Nashaway, which was the 
name of the tribe of Indians who lived along the l>anks of 
the river, and was after a time, perhaps naturally, and at 
any rate very happily, bestowed upon it by the settlers. 
I have seen it stated that nashmvay was a generic Indian 
word and signified ''a place between" or 'Mn the middle." 
I have, however, also seen it stated that the word signified 
" the beautiful stream with the pebbly bottom." The 
river near Lancaster was also at one time called the 
Lancaster River, and in the same way the river for an 
indefiniti' distance above and l)elow Groton was called the 
Groton River. 

The river at first flowed, for the most part, steadily 
with a deep strong current l)etween gently curving banks 
of uniform hight, and we rowed along at an easy pace 
under a cloudy sky. Standing u[) in the l)oat we could 



THE NASHUA BIVEIi. 151 

look across the broad, luxuriant, level fields to the hills 
far away on the south side beyond. We often passed a 
t;roup of cows standing at the edge of the water and 
dcjubtfully eyeing us, or on the ])ank above staring 
with a distant gaze at the strange apparition floating 
down river. After a while the river often descended a 
gravelly shallow with a rush, and we swiftly floated along 
past rapidly receding banks of sand or clay. Then, 
by and by, the river flowed smoothly between green banks 
under arching trees, and moving thus in state, touched 
a high hill on the left and passed under a very picturesque, 
old-fashioned, weather-stained road bridge, j)erhaps the 
connecting link of the old Lancaster-Concord turnpike. 
The river then still softly flowed in beautiful reaches, and 
after a while at intervals poured darkly with a deep, 
strong current past great banks of sand, which made 
a very })ictures([ue feature of the i-ivers(;ape. They were, 
for the most part, fringed along the semi-circular top edge 
with pines, while the sandy facade presented a grotesque 
spectacle of trees and shrubs engaged in a hopeless struggle 
to maintain their position in the sliding mass. Plaintively 
they turned in every direction, while otliers, settled at the 
margin of the water, were awaiting witli melanitholy 
resignation their hour of doom at the hands of a spring 
fresliet. 

After we had journeyed about an hour in alba shower 
came up and we made fast to tlie bank in a hnifv cave 



152 BOATING Tllirs. 

formed h\ the drooping branches of a graceful eim, where 
we were amply protected, while outside the swiftly 
moving surface of the water boiled with the thickly 
pattering drops of rain. While waiting for the rain to 
cease, we had lunch. Tlie clouds finally began to blow 
over, and we forthwith again got under way, and, ere 
long, the last rack disappeared and the sunshine, pouring 
down from a clear sky, filled all the valley with brilliantly 
luminous light. The river then soon began to wind in 
a labyrinthian maze over a wide intervale, turning indeed 
in most c;i[)ricious fasliion hither and thither, as if it liad 
lost its way. The reaches curled round and round, one 
into another, and at brief intervals we faced every point of 
the compass. Luckily there was a good current most of 
the time. After a while, however, the river seemed to be 
moving in a northerly direction, and we passed through 
many long, Avide reaches, where trees lined the banks 
almost continuously. Here the Nashua was indeed 
a lotus-like stream, and, as we })ursued our course close to 
shore under the branches which drooped over tlie water 
in a sleepy way, it was easy to fall into a dreamful mood, 
while the stillness of the scene, the quiet flow of the 
river, and the gentle rocking of the boat, all contributed 
to lull one's senses to a dumb feeling of enjoyment. 
Unless, indeed, J am very much mistaken, some one did 
fall asleep. 

At length the river approached a liigh hill on the east 



THE XASIIUA 111 VEIL 



153 



and we swung under a bridge of the Worcester and 
Nashua Railroad, and put ashore at the east end of the 
road bridge, which spans the river at the head of tlie next 
bend beh)w. The depot of Still River Village is only 
a few steps away. The village however, is half a mile 




distant on top of the liill, and is reached bv a direct, but 
pretty steep road. The view along the way, and especially 
near and at the summit, liowever, amply repays the 
trouble of ascent. The valley of the Nashua, below is 
wide and deep, and stretches away a magnificent vista 
towards the southwest. Opposite are broad, high hills, 



154 BOATIXG TRIPS. 

and beliind tliein hilltops roll away until lost in the 
distance. The Nashua makes a wide semi-eircular sweep 
from West Boylston to Still River Village, which is well 
indicated by the relative change in position of Wachusett. 
At West Boylston, Wachusett stands out a sharp cone in 
the north, while at Still Ri'^er Village, elongated into 
slopes of exquisite gracefulness, it bounds the western 
horizon. The view northward, which terminates with the 
blue peak of Monadnock, is also very fine. 

The few houses of Still River Village are grouped about 
a triple cross-road on the crown of a hill, where the suns 
of summer and the winds of winter have the freest access. 
'T is a quiet place, as befits its name, which it derives, 
I suppose, from a sluggish stream that somewhere 
meanders over the intervale below. As we walked along 
the deserted roads, not a soul in sight aiid the only st)und 
the harmonious clang of a blacksmith's hammer on anvil, 
it seemed indeed as if we had come to a Dreamthorpe in 
Arcadia. Still River Village, hoAvever, })oasts a post-office, 
which we discovered, after a long search, in the wood-shed 
attached to a private house. The office was equipped 
with a single row of open boxes affixed to the wall. In 
one was a paper and in another a letter, whicli, it is to be 
hoped, were not soon taken away. 

We got under way again about four o'clock, and pulled 
at a leisurely pace through a succession of lazily winding 
reaches. We were once startled for a moment bv the 



THE XASIIUA ItlVER. 155 

soviiid of a stone pluiupiiig' into the water (|uite near us. 
We were only splashed, but nevertheless set up an outcry 
which speedily brought a farmer through the bushes on 
the bank Avitli an apology of his complete ignorance of 
our presence, which was, no doubt, the entire truth. After 
rowing about an hour in all, we landed at the head of 
an abrupt bend of tlie river on the riglit, and procured 
some supplies at a farm-house just alxjve. 

The river had before been moving generally eastward, 
but here took a turn in a westerly direction until it laved 
a hill where the remains of stone abutments were visible 
on both sides of the river. The reaches were all ([uile 
long, and after pulling past the ruins of an old dam we 
entered one of great length and beauty. The banks on 
either side were liigh and lined with trees, and awa}" at 
the end where the river disappeared in a curve to the 
right was a great bank of sand and above it an open grove 
of lofty pines. We landed beneath their shade alongside 
a fallen tree, and clambering up the sandy slope found the 
ground above smooth as a house-floor and covered with 
a matting of pine pins softer to foot-fall than Moquette 
or Axminster. The water in the long reach through 
whicli we had just come, smooth as glass, reflected clouds 
and sky as in a mirror. Just below, the river descended 
with a rush by a higli clay-bank, while a brook, which 
goes by the euphonious title of Catacoonamaug, poured 
with a loud roar over a stony channel along one side 



156 BOATING TlilPS. 

of the grove and emptied into the Nashua half-way down 
the rapid. We pitched the tent in an open space near 
the edge of the bank, Avhere the canvas gleamed almost 
sacrilegiously white in the solemn shade of a forest aisle, 
which ended in darksome recesses ; while the sunlight 
streamed above the tops of the trees and fell like a 
benediction upon a quaint old farm-house on the ridge 
of a liill which slopes up Avith gentle inclination from the 
o})p()site l)ank. The Fitchburg Railroad runs along the 
hills on the westerly side of the river. We heard from 
time to time the roar of a train, and occasionally caught 
sight of a puff of smoke. We could plainly hear the trains 
slowing to a stop at Shirley Village, about a mile back 
of us through the woods, and also the strokes of the town 
clock which rang out the hours in long, musical tones. A 
path led among the pines to the village, but someliow 
we did not get there, and Shirley Village remains the 
(^'arcassonne of the trip. 

We got under way about eight o'clock next morning. 
We had considerable trouble in getting under a barbed 
wire stretched across the stream just at the foot of the 
ra})id. The river was quite swift in several places below 
and at times shallow. We pulled along the east bank to 
keep out of the sun's rays. While rowing by the mouth 
of a shallow bayou we discovered a huge snapping turtle 
in full flight for the river. The oarsman endeavored to 
stop his progress with an oar, but after turning him over 



THE NASHUA HI VEIL 157 

and (lancing liiiu on liis liead several times, the water got 
riled, and in tiie confusion lie escai)ed. After rowing 
about two miles we pulled under a bridge, the road east 
from which leads to Ayer Junction, and just below shot 
through a little fall of water amid the ruins of an old dam. 
The river then flows with an occasional rip})le to the 
bridge of the Fitchburg Railroad, under which it pours 
in quite a swift rapid. We landed near one end of it on 
the right and walked to Ayer Junction, which is three 
fourths of a mile from the river. The convergence of 
several railroads gives the village an air of considerable 
importance. What a relief, though, upon returning, to 
leave the hard bed of the railroad with its confusinj^ series 
of cross-ties and long lines of glistening rails, and once 
more embark on the cool river and swing with the How 
of a stream gently winding between green banks in a 
craft responsive to every stroke of the oar! We pulled 
along one or the (jther Imnk in the current, now past a 
shore lined with bushes and often under overhaneino- 
trees. Beyond, on either side, was a pleasing variety 
of scenery, a wooded hill near or afar off, a grove of pines, 
or a cultivated field, all (j[uiet and seemingly asleep in 
the heated noonday air. The river alone gave sign of 
life, but it too finally made its way lazily amid the 
tranquil scenes around. 

We pulled i)erhaps an hour, and then landed on the 
left bank and spread our blankets at the edge of a sunken 



158 BOATiya TL'IPS. 

road at the foot of a steep, thickly wooded hillside. A 
stream of crystal water sparkled across the road a short 
distance away, and above Avas the embankment of a dam 
and a curious old saw-mill. Below the mill was a small, 
shallow pond, which Avas, however, the favored abode 
of a multitude of frogs, among whom, with tlie willing aid 
of a friendly urchin, we made sad havoc in the course of 
the afternoon, and had an extra entree of rare delicacy, 
in spite perhaps of mottled associations, for supper. 

We got under way again late in the day, and soon 
pulled under a road bridge, then jjast the mouth of Squan- 
nacook River, and under the bridge of the Peterborough 
and Shirley Railroad just below, and thence in a suc- 
cession of long, straight reaches to the Red Bridge at 
Groton. We landed about a third of a mile below the 
bridge, and pitched the tent on the liigh right bank at the 
edge of a grove of pines. The camp-fire, after dark, 
lighted up the dense array of trees with startling shadows, 
and when it was suffered to die away, we were in the 
midst of a scene desolate in the extreme. Below, the 
river was still and dark ; opposite, flat fields rising in 
slopes of gentlest inclination, stretched drearily away to 
a sky-line of black clouds ; overhead, a few stars brightly 
twinkled amid the spray of the motionless black pine 
boughs, but elsewhere there was no light nor any sound, 
save the distant croaking of a frog, or, at a rare interval, 
the dull rumble of a team across the bridge above, and we 
therefore gladlv lost ourselves in slumber. 



CHAPTER III. 

GlIOTON. — NASHUA. 

~\TT"E pulled back to the Red Bridge early on the mor- 
row, and then walked to the village of Groton, 
wliicli is about a mile froin the river. The road leads up a 
hill, which rises in long and easy slopes, to a road called 
Farmer's Row, which runs north and south along the edge 
of a wide plateau. On the wall bordering the Row, a stone 
has been placed, by Mr. James Lawrence, near his resi- 
dence, which bears the following inscription : '' Near 
this spot, three children, Sarah, John, and Zacariah Tar- 
bell were captured by the Indians, June 20, 1707. They 
were taken to Canada, where the sister was placed in a 
convent. The l)rothers became chiefs of the Coughna- 
wago tribe, and were among the founders of St. Regis, 
where they have descendants now living." From Farm- 
er's Row there is a magnificent view, westward, over the 
valley of the Nashua, wdiich is very w^ide but quite 
shallow. The iiills fade away in receding masses of 
green, the outermost circle set with a rim of blue moun- 
tains which shoot up here and there into little i)eaks, in 
a way unique and extremely picturesc^ue ; while Monad- 
nock, in the north, and Wachusett, in the west, dominate 
still all the landscape. From Farmer's Row, the princi- 



160 BOATING TliJFS. 

pal part of the village presents a very fine appearance, 
on slightly rising ground on a street which runs to the 
eastward of the Row, and nearly parallel with it. 
The houses, many of whicli are almost concealed in the 
midst of trees, extend in a long, irregular line beneath a 
heavy bank of dark-green foliage, above which rises, liere 
and there, a cluirch-spire, pointing heavenward. 

Proceeding northerly, along the Row, a street leads to 
the right into tlie Main Street of the village. Near the 
junction of the streets is the old burying ground. On 
the side street, just before going to the Main Street, is 
the house wherein Margaret Fuller was born and passed 
her girlhood days. Then proceeding south, one comes to 
the post-office, and in the same building is the town 
library. Nearly op})osite, is the residence of ex-Governor 
Boutwell ; and in rear thereof, and not far distant, is an 
eminence called Gibbet Hill, from a tradition that an 
Indian was executed there. The summit commands a 
very fine view. Then one comes to the buildings of 
Lawrence Academy on the left-hand side, while nearly 
opposite is a row of old houses, one of which, at present 
occupied by a dealer in old furniture, was l^uilt nearly 
two hundred years ago ; and there are several other 
houses, equally old, in other parts of the town. 

On the same street, which is bordered on both sides by 
beautiful elms of massive growth, is the old tavern, the 
Central House, which was used as a residence before the 



THE NASHUA BIVER. 1()1 

Revolution; and farther down tlie road is the site of the 
house, marked l)y a stone l)earing' a suitable inscri[)tion, 
wherein William Prescott, the commander of the Ameri- 
can forces at the battle of Bunker Hill, was born ; and 
near at hand, is a fine, large, old-fashioned house, which 
was, at one time, a boarding school, and attended by 
jNIargaret Fuller. 

Whoevei-, however, desires to know about Groton 
should consult the histories of the Hon. Samuel A. Green, 
ex-mayor of Boston, a native of Groton, wlio has made a 
complete collection of the epita[)hs in the burying ground, 
the early town records, and written a History of Groton 
During the Indian Wars, besides compiling much other 
miscellaneous information of an interesting character, 
about the old taverns and stage lines, tV)r instance. There 
is also a very good history of the town by Caleb Butler. 

Groton had very much the same eK[)erieiu'e as Lancaster 
in the Indian Wars. The town was settled in 1655, 
and was in no way molested until an attack, which was 
made during King Philip's War, March 16, 1676. The 
iidiabitants, however, alarmed by the fate of Lancaster, 
had retired to the garrison houses, iive in nuinl)er, the 
sites of which are still known, and were situated, four at 
least, near the present Main Street. Gne garrison was 
taken, but only three persons were lost. Nearly all the 
buildings of tiie settlement were destroyed, however, 
including the meeting-house, the site of which has also 



162 BOATING TBIPS. 

been recently indicated by a monument. Soon after the 
attack, however, the inhabitants abandoned the place, 
and remained awa}' nearly two years before they ventured 
to return. They were subject still to alarms from time to 
time, however, and an occasional assault and depredation, 
and, duriijg King William's War, an attack was made 
July 27, 1694, ia which twenty ov more persons were 
killed and a d<jzen or more taken into captivity. 

Not far south of the i)Ost-office a road leads off from 
Main Street and, after running westerly over the plateau, 
terminates on Farmer's Row, just south of the road up 
from the Red Bridge. 

It is supposed that just above the bridge on the west 
side of the I'iver was the site of an Indian village, as 
a number of stone implements have been found there 
near the baidv of the stream ; and the site of other Indian 
villages has been indicated in the same way in other 
])laces in the town. Dr. Green has quite a large collection 
of the crude utensils used by the Indians, which have 
been gathered in various parts of the town, in the rooms 
of the Massachusetts Historical Society, in Boston. 

We returned to the boat about eleven o'clock, and were 
soon under way. After skirting the high east bank which 
makes a long curve to where we encamped, we continued 
on in a good current. By and by the banks were, for the 
most part, covered with a riotous growth of bushes and 
above were almost continuously lined with trees, mostly 



THE XASHUA L'lVEn. 163 

})iiies. It seemed indeed iiiiicli t)f tlie time as if we were 
on a river of wildernesses. 

We pulled up after a leisurely row of about an hour, 
perhaps less, under Fitch's Bridge, wliich was fastened to 
the banks by two long cables. Tlie road east leads to 
Groton, which is about two miles distant. The road, 
however, branches on the way, the southerl}^ road 
terminating, after a course a little more roundabout than 
the other, in the village, while the other intersects the 
Great Road, so called, a road of unusual width, formerly 
the old stage route, which runs direct from the village to 
Tileston and HoUingsworth's paper mills, and is there 
continued over the river on a bridge designated P^mery's 
Bridge on an old map, though I think that now-a-days it is 
generally spoken of as the Paper Mill Bridge. From 
this, tlie third and last bridge in Groton, it is about 
a. mile — a pretty long one, however — by the Great 
Road to the village. 

The road west from Fitches Bridge likewise branches 
into two, one of which, well sliaded with great maples, 
runs north parallel with the river, and the other dis- 
appears around the spur of a hill and runs, I know not 
where. 

We obtained some supplies at a farm-house, prettily 
kjcated on the lower road, and had a season of idleness 
under the maples and on the bridge. After a wliile we 
embarked again and pulled through the reaches and then 



164 



BOATING TRIPS. 



landed on the low, open, left bank, and had luncli under 
a mammoth oak, which was partly suiToinided at a 
respectful distance by a large family of small trees. The 
river in front was motionless, as if it too were quietly 
enjoying a rest. The bank opposite was also low, and 
beyond were broad and fertile meadows which terminated 
against pretty, dark-green hills. 




-iL >1'^'^'' 'l'^i'''^.i^l'Ai*y^.v 






When we started on it was about three o'clock. As we 
rowed along we heard the noise of machinery, which grew 
louder and louder, and, ere long, we pulled under the 
Paper Mill Bridge which was being painted a very effective 
red, and came close to the edge of a dam just below as 
water was not pouring over. We could not get by on the 
right, however, as Tileston and Hollingsworth's paper 
mills covers the bank between the bridge and the east 
end of the dam, so we pulled to the west shore and 



THE XASni'A JUVEH. 165 

landed tliere on the bulkhead. It M'oidd liavc been easy 
to make a cany tlience along the l)ank, but, having first 
unloaded the baggage, we lowered the boat over the dam 
and moored her at the edge of the flooring below, and in 
a few minutes the baggage was tossed down, stowed, and 
we were drifting along in deep water with a rapid current. 
Before fully getting under way Ave passed several women 
in a group on the bank, who looked, in flowing dresses, 
much like Greek goddesses of Hibernian descent. 

Just below where the dam now stands there used to 
be a shallow place in the river called Stony fordway. 
Here, on May 8, 1709, John Siiattuck, one of the select- 
men of the town of Groton, and his son, while crossing 
the river, were killed by the Indians, and recently a stone 
has been erected by Messrs. Tileston and Hollingsworth, 
near the mill, in commemoration of the event. 

The last man killed by the Indians in Groton was one 
John Ames, who Avas slain on the west side of the river, 
not far from the bridge, July P, 1724. The Indian who 
killed him was, however, slain almost innnediately after- 
ward by Ames's son. 

On the east side of the Hollis Road, perhaps a mile and 
a quarter from the village, was the site of a house which 
has recently been marked by a monument bearing the 
following inscription : "Here dwelt William and Deliver- 
ance Longley, with their eight children. On tlie twenty- 
seventh of July, 1694, the Indians kilh'd tlu; father and 



166 BOATING TBIPS. 

mother and five of the children and carried into captivity 
the other three." Of these children, one, Lydia, was sold 
to the French and placed in a convent, became a Catholic, 
and died at the age of eighty-four ; one perished of hunger 
and cold soon after his capture ; while the other, after 
remaining with the Indians four years, was ransomed 
against his will and afterward lived and died in Groton, 
and his remains now repose in the old burying ground. 

The scenery along the river below the paper mills is 
very fine. We passed two or three rush-lined bays, thick 
with lily-pads, and a sheltered cove, whose dark expanse 
was dotted with a countless array of yellow lilies : and 
now and then a few fragrant white pond-lilies which 
bloomed, however, at rare intervals along the river border. 
Here and there along the turfy banks stood a great elm 
in stately dignity, while on either hand were broad, fertile 
intervales and lulls near or remote. Occasionally we 
passed a group of lofty trees, and farther down innumer- 
able S(|uads of pines. 

After rowing about an liour the river began to grow 
wider and quite sluggish, and was often bordered with 
sedges. By and by we came to a small but very graceful 
islet, covered with trees, at a bend of the stream. On the 
right is a high, broad hill, bordered at the north by a 
dense forest of pines, which approaches the river nearly 
opposite the islet. We then passed through a slight rapid, 
and thereafter kept along the east shore in a considerable 



THE NASHUA UIVEH. 167 

current in the shadow of pines which line the Ijank 
almost continuously to Pepperell. 

We pulled through the reach, which is (juite long- and 
straight, with houses of the village in view at the foot 
of it, and landed just above tlie west end of the dam, and 
then, from the bridge which crosses the river just below, 
examined the dam to see how we could l)est get around 
it. The east bank is high and wellnigh impossible of 
access. One might indeed get a boat over at the east end 
of the dam itself if water was not pouring over, as there 
is a ledo-e of rocks below there sufHcientlv high to ^ive 
footing. It would, however, apparently be an inider- 
taking of doubtful value, as it would have been difficult 
to navigate the river below when water was pouring over 
the dam at full head, on account of rocks an<l shallows. 
We were, in addition, informed tliat there is another dam 
only a short distance farther down. The second dam 
is quite low, but we concluded upon the whole that it 
would be better to make a carry to the lower mill, a 
distance of about quarter of a mile in all ; and we there- 
fore had a man take the l>oat on a wheelbarrow, while 
we followed with the baggage. 

We had not proceeded far, nnifHed with parcels of 
various kinds, when a rapid succession of hollow splash- 
ings fell upon our eai's, and almost ere we realized the 
nature and occasion of the nushap we found a couple 
of dozen eggs, which had escaped through tli«> dampened 



168 



BOATiXG nurs. 



bottom of a paper bag, strewing the hard walk at our 
feet, and a woman, previously screened from observation 
l)ehind a pair of l)linds, thereupon laughed aloud. The 
impulse, however, that moved her to merriment was, I 
assure her, very pardonable, and if the accident pleased 







the fair — I hope she was fair — incognita, I am sure the 
incident amused us. 

We launched the boat in the tail-race in the yard of the 
mill and were soon speeding in a swift current along the 
western shore of tlie river. We soon landed, however, at 
the covered bridge, a huo-e, gloomv, cavernous structure, 



THE XASUUA llIVEn. 109 

with very picturesque suiiouiidings, especially about the 
westeiu uiouth. 

Here, and on other occasions while in tlie vicinity, we 
heard a. strange gibberish issuing out of the mouths of 
boys and young maidens, in Avhich we finally distinguished 
sounds like liashee and tuthashee, which gave a key 
to a dialect that, I l)elieve, has some affinity to the Latin 
tongue. A sentence sounded thus: — 

" I wuv-o-nun-dud-e-rug Avuv-hash-e-rug-e tut-hash-e-y 
a-ruo-e o-uij-o-i-nun-ouo- wuv-i-tut-hasli tut-hash-e bu1)-o-a- 
tut ! " 

This language, which, after all, is simply an extension 
of English, is formed by doubling each consonant and 
placing the vowel u between the two, except certain 
consonants whose sound will not permit, as c, which 
becomes cans to distinguish it from k, and h, which 
becomes hash, j, jug, r, rug, and w, wuv: while q and x 
and the vowels remain the same. Pronounced as the 
youth of Pepperell pronounced it, trii)pingly on the 
tongue, with the rapidity of great familiarity, it had 
a sound as foreign and unintelligible as the speech of 
Greek or Choctaw. If only the oft-recurring "hash" 
could be changed into a form a little less flat and dis- 
cordant, the flow of the utterance would be, from the 
constant repetition of the most euphonious of vowels, as 
musical as Tuscan Italian, or the Spanish of Castile. 

Pepperell was set off from Groton and given the name 



170 BOATIXd- TJIIPS. 

of Pepperell in honor of Sir William Pepperell, who 
commanded the Now England expedition of six thousand 
men that captured Louisburg and subjected tlie Isle of 
Cape Breton to tlie possession of Great Britain, in 1745. 
The principal village, Avhich is called Middle Pepperell, is 
about a mile from the river. The village along the west 
side of the river by the mills is called Babbatasset, which 
was the Indian name of the locality. East Village is 
situated along the Xissitisset, a stream winch empties 
into the Nashua a short distance below the covered 
bridge, while opposite Babbatasset is the Depot A^illage, 
as it is called tliereabouts, though it appears on maps as 
East Pepperell. 

We encamped about liaJf a mile down river on the left 
bank under a cano[)y of pines. We broke camp late in the 
afternoon of the next day, and drifted quite swiftly along 
in a strong current, and occasionally were hurried onward 
l)y a. rapid. The banks were quite high and almost 
continuously lined with trees. After a while the river 
grew broader and we passed several quite high sand bluifs. 
We rowed about an hour altogether, and then landed on 
the right bank, and at a house above, the lirst we had seen, 
made inquiry as to our whereabouts. The woman who 
gave us directions said she saw our boat coming round 
the bend above and for a moment thought it was a canoe 
ill wliich her son was making a voyage home from Canada- 
He had intended to come down the Passumpsic into the 



rni-: xasiiua biveb. 171 

Connecticut, aiid paddle down the Connecticut to Miller's 
River, and up Miller's River as far as })ossible, wliicli, T 
should sa}', could not be very far, — and then, making 
a carry l)y the Fitchburg Railroad, launch his canoe in 
the Xortli Branch of the Nashua, and so reach home, 
— an interesting journey I hope he successfully accom- 
plislie(l. 

Around the next bend below the place where wa 
landed, is a covered bridge, high above the Avater. The 
bed of the river underneath is quite thickly strewn witli 
rocks. We had some trouble threading our way auion'>- 
them, but at length came to a shallow channel on the left 
through which we towed the boat. It would l)e easy to 
shoot a little fall thi^ river makes on the right were it not 
that the water just below dashes with great violenc.-e 
against a rocky ledge. We afterward heard it stated that 
the Nashua Manufacturing C()m[)auy intends soon to 
erect a dam here. Tl:erc is a. small settlement at the 
east end of the bridge, which is colhxiuially known as 
Pumpkin Town. The road west from the bridge leads to 
Hollis, which is about three miles distant. It is (ine oi" 
the earliest settlements in New Hampshire, and. I am 
informed, still preserves marks of its aiiti([uity. We 
pitched the tent on the right bank of the bend next 
below the falls, as night was falling upon the shadowy 
landscape. 

We were under way again early Monday morning and 



172 BOATIXa^ TIUPS. 

rowed along the east bank in a fair current, and for a long 
time in the shadow of quite an extensive wood. Wild 
roses and flowers of various hue bloomed at frequent 
intervals along shore, and the air was full of invigorating 
t'reslniess. By and by we passed an island of comely pro- 
])orti()ns, covered with rich undergrowth, and woods, and 
fields in constant succession. While rowing along wc 
amused ourselves for a time by l)lowing soap-l)ubbles. 
Tlie rainl)ow-hued globes, instead of bursting when they 
touched the water, as we supposed they would, glanced 
lightly along even where it Avas calm, or gayly bounded 
from wave to wave, usually a long time before flashing 
out of sight. Occasiomilly a bubble mounting in air, 
moved (piickly to the impulse of every variable wiiul 
hither and thither until, like its companions on the water, 
the brilliant iridescence burst into nothingness. 

After about an hour's pull we came to Mine Run, the 
last fall in the river above Nashua. Below the dam at the 
head of the run was a dry bed of naked jagged rocks 
which curved downward out of sight l)etweeu steep l)anks 
covered with dreary pines, and all tlie valley below was 
i\, silent sea of green spra}'. A carry in the rougli channel 
to th(^ head of the river woidd liave been long and 
difficult, so we rowed over a l)Oom of logs and carried the 
boat around the gate-house at the right and launched 
lier in the canal below, which, however, at once broad- 
ened out into a wide reservoir, bordered with trees except 



THE NASHUA lilVER. 



173 



at the end below where it is scarred by a great l)auk of 
sand which glistened in the sun. We lingered some time 
ill the open space b}" the gate-house and in the woods 
around the head of the reservoir, amid a strange solitude, 
undisturbed, except by the noise of the water, wliich 
struggled out from under the gate, and, at brief intervals, 
moaned like some monster in distress. 

When we embarked and put off into the reservoir we 




MrT/rrSt. 'Btld<i^f^3shija 



were for a while in much doubt which way to proceed. 
We pulled, however, along the northern shore and at 
h'ugth discovered the head of the canal which was screened 
from view around a bend, and enjoyed very much our [)ull 
through the long, uniform readies that gently curved one 
into another between tree-lined l)anks. The canal is wide 
and deep, and the water runs along through it in heavy 
Vdlume with strong current. TIk; canal is dug along the 
side of a liill and near the end is (piite higli above the 



174 BOATING TBIPS. 

liver, which lies in peaceful quiet in the valley below. 
After a delightful sail of nearly two miles in all, we landed 
at a carriage-gate on the road which runs along the outer 
enbankment of the canal, and, carrying the boat across 
the road, lowered her down the steep bank on the other 
side, and in a few minutes launched her once more on the 
Nashua. We pulled up river a short distance and pitched 
tlie tent in a piece of woods on the grounds of the Nashua 
Manufacturing Company, which extend for three miles 
l)etween the canal and rivei. 

During the night we Avere awakened by a terrific clap 
of thunder, which was followed b}^ dazzling flashes of 
lightning, and a furious thunder storm Inirst upon us. 
The wind was so violent that we were for a time appre- 
hensive that it would demolish the tent, which had been 
less securely fastened than usual, but fortunately tlie 
canvas stood u}) under it, and we escaped a wetting. 

We embarked for our final pull Tuesday morning at an 
ec\v\y hour. We rowed through quite a long reach past 
a wooded bank on the right, which, after a while, receded 
around a- deep recess ; while opposite were broad fields with 
hills l)eyond, and before us was the tall brick chimney of 
a mill, and here and there amid green slopes the steeple of 
a church and houses of Nashua. We soon pulled around 
an abrupt bend, wooded on the left, while opposite, a little 
farther down the reach below, was the long, high, imposing 
mill of the Nashua Manufacturing Company, and our way 



THE XASIIUA lilVEli. 



175 



was then in the midst of the city. At the end of the 
reach, which is lined on the south side with mills and on the 
north with dwellings, is a long bridge. There is a dam 
just below Nashua which supplies motive power to the 




W/Sk""'/] 



"^-0^'^ash 



Jackson Mills, and it is only a short distance below the 
mill to the Merrimac. We landed at Boynton's boat- 
house, No. 46 Front Street, whence it is onl}' a few 
minutes' walk to the ddpSt of the Boston and Lowell Rail- 
road, which is near the north end of the bridge. 

It is thirty-seven miles b}' rail from West Boylston to 



176 BOATING TRIPS. 

Nashua, Init it is safe to say that the distance by river is 
at least sixty. The trip occupied a week, but we were 
actually in the boat rowing only about thirty hours in all. 
There is indeed an almost constant temptation to linger 
along the delightful course of the gentle Nashua, and at 
the end one could not, I think, well help indulging 
a regret that the voyage had changed from a reality to 
a dream. 



T. J. SHAW & CO. 

MANUFACTURERS OF AND DEALERS IN 

OARS AND SCULLS 

OF ALL KINDS. 



Spoon and Fancy Oars and Paddles Made to Order. 



ALSO, DEALERS IN SKIFFS. 



130 & 166 COMMERCIAL STREET, 
BOSTON. 



Prices sent upon applicatio7i, and goods forivarded to any address. 



